


Hour Of Need

by Lemmerman



Category: Stargirl (TV 2020)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:00:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 59,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24952702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lemmerman/pseuds/Lemmerman
Summary: Blue Valley High School isn't something to enjoy; it's just something to survive. When your path crosses with fellow social outcast Rick Harris, you begin to feel like you might have found someone to survive with.Rick has other ideas however; the rage that burns within him threatens to consume any kind of relationship that you try and kindle between you, and soon you begin to realise that it might not just be friendship that you want from him after all.And when new girl Courtney Whitmore moves to town and begins to pick at Blue Valley's perfect facade, Rick finds himself in the centre of a battle between good and evil that looks to tear the town apart.As supervillains close in from all directions and a new Justice Society emerges, will you be able to navigate your feelings for the fledgling superhero in time to help your new friends stop this threat, or will the strain be too much for even Rick’s super-strength to bear?[Set during the events of Stargirl Season One]
Relationships: Reader/Rick Tyler, Rick Tyler/Reader
Comments: 23
Kudos: 67





	1. Unexpected Company

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set during the events of Stargirl 01x01 - Pilot

Blue Valley High is a typical high school, despite everything that the parents and teachers do to try and convince the rest of the world that it isn’t.

There are good classes, and ones you want to avoid like the plague; good teachers, and some that make you want to leap out of the classroom window no matter what floor you’re on. There’s a football team that everyone is supposed to support. Extracurricular clubs organised not by interest, but by social standing. Homework, free periods, crushes, break-ups, drama of all shapes and sizes. 

And you have your cliques. Geeks, jocks, goths, artists, mathletes; you name it and you can find them in Blue Valley High somewhere. As much as the rest of Blue Valley wants to pretend to be PerfectTown, USA, high school is one of those experiences that will always be the same no matter where it takes place, almost as if high schools exist in another dimension entirely.

The thought of a dimension made entirely of high schools makes you shudder. That’s the stuff of nightmares, right there. 

Instead, you focus on your lunch tray. You’ve grabbed a sandwich, a can of soda, and an apple. Not the most healthy, but at least you’re trying. 

You smile at the lunch lady as you hand over your cash, and then step towards the assembled lunch tables, looking out at the rest of the school already engaged in eating, drinking, shouting, and roughhousing in equal measure, like they’re all part of some weird 80s teen movie. 

See. High schools are all the same.

And then there’s you, of course. Still trying to find your place in things. Not exactly an outcast so much as a voluntary abstainer. High school happens to other people – you just go here, and try and make it through as best you can.

You look around for an empty seat, but of course there aren’t any. Well, there are, but not any that you want to fill.

The football team and the cheerleaders all share a table, because of course they do. Living clichés, the lot of them. There’s an empty seat at the end, but sitting there would be social suicide. Cindy Burman would probably pour a slushy on your head like you were in a bad episode of Glee for even daring to think you were worthy of sharing lunch space with her and her cronies.

There’s an entire table of nerds with their heads in their homework, as if they can’t waste any precious time eating and have to use it all learning instead. You can imagine biting into your apple and getting ten deathly glares thrown your way for disturbing them. No, thank you.

There’s always the singles table, you think. You know none of them will turn you away; they have about as much status as you do. A quick glance reveals that there’s a new member at the table today, though. 

The usual suspects are there of course. Beth Chapel is smiling at everyone who walks past her like a very eager maniac, her afro spinning so fast that she’d probably give you a static shock if you touched her.

Yolanda Montez, the unfortunate school pariah, has her head down, her long, dark hair all around her face, a curtain of protection against the outside world as she eats quietly. She and Beth are the total opposite – whereas Beth would love attention but receives hardly any, Yolanda’s had more than her fair share. 

There’s also Rick Harris...you don’t know a lot about him. No one does, really. He keeps to himself, when he’s not getting himself into trouble. He alternates between glaring at his lunch and glaring at the others, like he can’t believe that this is what he has to deal with. 

And now there’s the new girl, Courtney...something or other. She’s blonde and bubbly, trying to make conversation, clearly oblivious to how the cafeteria works. She’ll soon learn though.

You think about going over and introducing yourself; your mom always says that you should try to make more friends. But just watching all the social animals around you has already sapped your batteries for the afternoon. It’s suddenly stifling in here, like the walls are closing in, and you have to get out.

So instead of finding a seat you turn on your heel, scoop your lunch items into your hand, return your lunch tray to the pile, and march outside.

Strictly speaking, you’re always meant to eat lunch in the cafeteria. But as long as you’re careful and don’t leave any litter behind, most of the teachers are willing to turn a blind eye to you finding an alternative venue every once in a while. Maybe it’s sympathy. Maybe it’s pity. Maybe it’s just that they have bigger problems to deal with than you. But it means you get a little privilege, and you’ll take what you can get.

You plop yourself down on the bleachers that surround the school football field. No one’s around right now, not even the coaches. It’s too early in the year for a lunchtime practise, so you’ve got the whole place to yourself, the total opposite of the cafeteria.

So, Blue Valley High really is your typical high school. And everyone who goes here is your typical high school student. It’s almost disappointing; you kinda wish that there was something special about it. Every movie you’ve ever seen has told you that high school is where the exciting stuff happens – once you’re out, you’re part of the real world, and then it’s all just dull and boring until you die. 

But then again, do you really need the drama? Isn’t it hard enough negotiating the normal high school stuff without adding in something even more complicated? 

You contemplate that for a while, munching away slowly at your sandwich, the lunch hour creeping by at a snail’s pace. It’s a lovely summer afternoon; not too hot, with a comfortable breeze blowing the scent of the freshly cut football field grass past you every now and then.

It’s surprisingly peaceful. At least until an unfamiliar voice asks: “Hey, you mind if I sit here?”

You look up to find Rick Harris of all people staring down at you, his backpack already on the bleacher. One eyebrow is quirked up and his mouth is a thin line, as if he’s waiting for you to reject him and is ready with a scathing comment or swear word, like the world is a constant disappointment to him and he’s learned to be prepared for it.

You blink once, twice, before finding your voice. “Uh, sure. I was waiting for my entire army of friends, but I think they must have gotten lost, so help yourself.”

Rick opens his mouth, ready to spit venom, but then stops, taken aback. “Oh. Gotta admit, that wasn’t what I expected you to say.”

“If you thought I was going to say no, then why did you ask? There’s a whole football field here, you could sit anywhere.”

Rick narrows his eyes, like he’s trying to work out if you’re challenging him or not. “I just like sitting here,” he says, as if that explains anything. “I can go somewhere else if you want.”

He re-shoulders his backpack, but you hold out a hand. “No, it’s fine. You can sit, I don’t mind. I was just curious.”

He looks at you quizzically, but doesn’t comment. He sits on the next bleacher in front of you before beginning to root around in his backpack for something.

There’s motor oil on the back of his neck, you notice as he leans forward. Part of you wants to reach out and wipe it away, but that doesn’t feel like something you do to someone you barely know.

You and Rick have been in Blue Valley since you were kids, but your paths haven’t crossed much. You’ve shared classes, sure, but your social circles (and lack thereof) have never exactly coincided. You’re not even sure if he knows your name.

And yet, here he is.

“How come you’re out here?” you ask before you can stop yourself. “Don’t you usually eat in the cafeteria?”

Rick turns back and seems to consider you before replying, like a stray dog working out if it can trust you or not.

“The Losers’ Table was too crowded. That new girl, Whitmore, wanted to be all friendly, and I ain’t about that.”

“Not a fan of friendly?” you ask, taking a sip of your soda.

“Not a fan of much,” he grunts back. “I do like these, though.”

He turns, triumphant, as he pulls a yellow box out of his backpack and places it on the bleacher beside him. It’s an entire box of Nutty Buddys.

“Did you….steal that?” You’re not sure whether to be wary, or impressed. Maybe a bit of both.

“Appropriated,” Rick corrects you. “I appropriated them.”

He tears into the top of the box, ignoring the perforations and just punching straight through the cardboard.

He begins to unwrap one for himself before catching your eye again, almost unsure of how to proceed. He fishes into the box and holds a second candy bar out towards you uncertainly. “Did...you want one?”

“Trying to bribe me into not ratting you out?” you ask wryly, and you actually manage to elicit a grin from Rick; or it could just be the fact that he’s trying to fit the entire candy bar into his mouth sideways. You choose to think that you made him smile, though.

He continues to offer you the bar without comment, and you lean forward and take it. “Much better than an apple,” you tell him, tearing off the wrapper and biting off a sizeable chunk for yourself. 

It’s not your favourite candy bar, but the fact that it’s stolen goods somehow makes it taste all the sweeter. Rick eventually gives up trying to eat the entire bar in one go and tears a big bite off with his teeth instead.

“So how come you’re out here?” he asks suddenly, turning your own question back on you. You’re not sure if he’s asking because he cares, or because he feels like he should. Then again he doesn’t seem the type to bother with unnecessary conversation, so maybe he’s genuinely curious.

“High school drama’s not really my style. I get enough of listening to Cindy in the hallways, I don’t need her in my ear while I enjoy my lunch too.”

“That girl’s voice is like nails on a chalkboard,” Rick observes. “I’m surprised her little posse aren’t all deaf.”

“Maybe they are; it’s the only way they could possibly stand to be around her all the time.”

Rick smirks wickedly, and you feel yourself welling with pride. This is going surprisingly well, considering you had no idea what to say only a few minutes ago.

You point towards him with the remnants of your candy bar. “You know you’ve got something on your neck?”

Rick’s brow furrows, and he slaps at the base of his skull with his free hand. It comes away dirty, the machine oil now smeared across his skin like an artist’s brush stroke. 

“Shit, I’ve been walking around all day like that?” He wipes his hand across the leg of his jeans just as you’re about to offer him a tissue. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

“Maybe they’re a little afraid of you?” you guess. Rick stops mid-movement, a look of confusion and concern now on his face.

“I guess I don’t do much to make them think otherwise,” he admits. He almost looks hurt, but the expression lasts for less than a second before it’s replaced by concentration as he spits on his hand and rubs the rest of the oil away. It was so quick, you’re not even sure you saw it at all once it’s gone.

“I’m not afraid of you,” you tell him. You’re not sure where that’s come from; you’ve literally been speaking to him for ten minutes. But it’s true – you’re not afraid. He’s just a guy, like everyone else.

Rick smiles a small smile, like he’s won a little victory in life, and then goes back to eating.

He’s staring out into the football field, but his mind is clearly somewhere else. His eyes have glazed over, and you take the opportunity to really take him in.

His profile is striking; he has a sharp chin, and dark eyes that add to the air of mystery he manages to cultivate without even trying. His hair is thick, slicked back effortlessly as if he woke up with it perfectly coiffed; something tells you that that’s likely not the case though, and that he’s not too fussed about his appearance. He could use motor oil on his hair, for all you know.

He’s wearing an oversized hoodie and skinny jeans; the sweatshirt is gripping him tightly around the chest and shoulders because of how far forward he’s leaning so you can tell that even though he seems wiry, he’d probably surprise you with how strong he is. 

You’ve both lapsed into companionable silence, the only sound your respective munching. It’s not awkward, strangely enough. Here you are, eating pilfered candy with a guy you barely know; it should be the epitome of weird. And yet, it’s just...not. 

At least until a shrill voice cuts through the silence and ruins it all for you.

“Mister Harris!”

You and Rick both turn towards the end of the bleachers; there stands Principal Bowin, a look of thunder on her face. Her fingers are twitching, as if she can’t keep them still. Maybe she wants to wring Rick’s neck.

“Shit. Busted.” Rick doesn’t even bother to conceal his crime – the box of stolen Nutty Buddys is plain to see on the bleacher beside him so there’s no way he can deny this one.

Bowin stalks towards you both, her expression growing darker the closer she gets. She reaches out one of her hands towards Rick, palm up, expectantly.

“Stealing from the cafeteria, Mister Harris? Really? If you can’t provide your own lunch, for whatever reason, then the school can help you. You don’t just get to take what you want.”

“I’m not living on welfare lunches,” Rick spits back. His voice is rising, and you see one of his hands ball into a fist; you don’t think he’d actually hit the Principal, but it makes you wary nonetheless.

Bowin’s voice grows higher as well, getting ready for a fight in her own way. “There’s nothing wrong with asking for help, Mister Harris.”

Her tone however says otherwise; that she will absolutely judge anyone who needs financial help with their food, and that she already judges him for many other things. She’s no different to the rest of Blue Valley High; she wants everyone to think that she’s perfect, but she’s just as bad.

“Screw your help,” Rick says. “And screw your candy bars as well.” He grabs what remains of the box, tattered and torn from his assault, and slides it across the bleachers toward Bowin like a hockey puck, using as much force as he can muster. 

It skids to a stop right beside her, and Bowin leans over to collect it. “Detention after school, Mister Harris. For stealing, and a bad attitude. Maybe it’ll give you some time to think about what you can bring to Blue Valley High.”

Then she fixes her gaze on you; you’ve never drawn the ire of the Principal before. Hell, you’ve never annoyed any of the teachers. You mostly just float under the radar, and that’s just the way you like it. You do your best not to shrink under her eyes.

“And a warning for you,” she says pointedly. “Maybe you should reconsider the company you keep.”

You look from Bowin, her eyes steely and unwavering, to Rick. He’s looking at you, his expression entirely unreadable. You’re not sure what he wants from you in this situation, if he wants anything at all. You feel as though he won’t expect anything; that he’s not used to kindness, to having someone in his corner. 

That thought is what makes up your mind for you.

You look back the Principal and square your shoulders. “I think I can choose my company perfectly well, thank you Principal Bowin.” There’s no disrespect in your voice, or accusation, or anything like that. You’re as neutral as you can possibly sound, but your meaning is clear - Rick’s not the problem here.

“I pray that you’re right,” she says after a moment. If your response is unexpected, she doesn’t let it show. Then she turns and disappears back towards the school.

Rick glances up at you, not sure what to say. “You didn’t have to do that,” he manages eventually. “I can fight my own battles.”

“I’m sure you can,” you reassure him. “Doesn’t mean you should. Bowin may be a bitch, but she was right about one thing – it’s not a bad thing to ask for help.”

Rick doesn’t reply to that; he seems to be mulling it over, unsure how to respond. Then he runs a hand through his hair and shrugs. “I’ll see you ‘round.”

“You too. Thanks for the candy bar.”

Rick’s lip curls into an unreadable smile. “Thanks for the company. And...for what you said...to Bowin, I mean.”

Before you can say anything further he’s gone, leaving you alone on the bleachers once more.

Rick Harris is a strange guy, you think as you finish off the candy bar he gave you. There’s anger there, for sure. But there’s a sadness just beneath the surface, a sadness that almost makes your heart ache. 

You’ve never met someone so defensive, someone so beaten down by the world around him that he can’t even comprehend that someone would ever stick up for him. 

Rick might pretend to be just another high school stereotype, but there’s definitely more to him than meets the eye. And for some reason, you really want to find out what.

And while it’s true that you didn’t want too much excitement in your high school life, surely solving the mystery of Rick Harris isn’t going to cause you too much trouble...right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been a while since I wrote anything fandom related. Hopefully I've still got it.


	2. Corridor Of Confusion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set during the events of Stargirl 01x02 - S.T.R.I.P.E

Open Houses are a peculiar concept, you think as you wander around the myriad booths and set-ups that your fellow students have assembled in the school gym.

The idea is to show parents that their children have been doing well, and that their learning environment is one to be proud of. Why report cards and how happy their kids are isn’t a good enough gauge, you have no idea.

Instead you get this big song and dance, with parents wandering the halls staring at staged demonstrations about how much you all enjoy going to school. All the extracurricular clubs have put on displays, and there are examples of excellent work all over the walls and the tops of booths. Everywhere you look is something screaming _‘Blue Valley High is perfect, honest!’_

It’s all so spectacularly forced. There’s nothing genuine here, the whole ordeal has no soul. It’s just fake smiles and fake exhibits. There isn’t one real thing in the entire place.

The Open House also seems to be a chance for parents to show off their kids to the other parents, like one big bragging competition. Principal Bowin for example is shoving her poor, beleaguered son Isaac under anyone’s nose that makes eye contact with her, proclaiming about what a musical prodigy he is. 

Isaac catches your attention as you pass and rolls his eyes so hard, you think they might bounce out of his face and onto his mom’s immaculately shined shoes. You shrug as best you can and dart away before Bowin tries to introduce you to her son as well, as if you haven’t been going to school with him since you were both in kindergarten.

You juke sideways to avoid ‘Crusher’ Crock and his wife Paula; their daughter Artemis is the star player of the school football team, and more than a little scary as a result. Also not someone you want to talk to right now. Or ever, actually.

You don’t really have any reason to be here, anyway. It’s not like your parents are here; they went to one of these when your older brother went to Blue Valley High, so they’ve seen it all before. And it’s not as if you’re a member of any of the clubs that needed help with their demonstrations, either.

No, your real reason for being here is a sight more selfish than that; you’re hoping to run into Rick.

He’s been on your mind since that day on the football field, and you’ve not been able to shake him at all. You can’t understand why – he’s just a guy, a weird guy with anger issues and possible chocolate-specific kleptomaniacal tendencies.

And yet, you can’t stop thinking about him. You just have to see him again.

Expecting to find him here is ridiculous, really; there are so many people, and you don’t even know where to start. You’re pretty sure he isn’t a member of any of the extracurricular clubs, so you can’t go booth to booth looking for him; he could be here with his parents, walking in the opposite direction, and you might never cross paths with him at all. He might not even be here at all.

But that’s not going to stop you looking anyway.

“Excuse me,” says a man, pushing past without waiting for you to move. You spin on the spot under the pressure from his touch, nearly careening into the Robotics Club’s elaborate diorama of the Mars Rover. 

It’s Doctor King, Henry’s dad. He’s a surgeon at Blue Valley Memorial Hospital, and more than a little creepy. You catch a glimpse of his face as he passes, his eyes narrowed in concentration, almost as if he’s...looking for something? Or someone?

A quick glance around the gym reveals that his wife and son are already here, chatting away with one of the football coaches, no doubt crowing about how good Henry is on the field. 

So who could Doctor King be looking for?

Not your problem, you suppose. He’s probably just looking for the bathroom. Very creepily looking for the bathroom.

You hope you don’t look like that while you’re looking for Rick.

You cut across the room as carefully as you can, not wanting to disturb any of the teachers or attract any attention from the other adults. The last thing you needed was getting drawn into a protracted conversation about how your parents are doing, or what your brother’s doing at college.

You’re pretty sure Rick’s not in here anyway, and it’s getting far too crowded for your liking. Bursting into the corridor outside the gym, you immediately breathe a heavy sigh of relief. Too many people, not enough room to think.

There’s a crash from further down the hall, and you turn to see someone trying to force some collapsible tables into a storage closet and failing miserably. They’re just a pair of legs poking out from behind the closet door, the sound of crashing and curse words floating out from within.

It’s the cursing that gives him away though, and you fight the urge to smile. Against the odds, you’ve managed to find Rick after all.

You rush over to help him; he draws himself out of the closet for a second attempt, and you can see the anger steaming up inside him like a kettle coming to boil as he pushes and shoves the metal legs that are flailing about like an angry spider, resisting all of his efforts to get them into the closet safely.

“Go in, god damn it!” he shouts, aiming a kick at the nearest table leg. Before it can connect you reach out and push one of the joints; the table leg snaps into place, the entire thing sliding into position, slipping nto the storage closet without any further fuss. 

Rick looks momentarily confused, and then kicks the table anyway for good measure. “Stupid ass thing. Who said tables had to be so complicated?”

“They’re not, if you just take the time to get to know them. They’re a bit like people that way,” you tell him, hand on your hip and smiling knowingly. “I happen to know, for example, that they always get stuck if you don’t fold them properly before trying to shove them places. They told me once, because I was nice to them.”

“A real table expert, are you?” Rick says, crossing his arms. “I’d never have guessed.”

“Maybe you could try and get to know me better too, not just the tables,” you suggest, and an alarm bell rings in the back of your mind even as the words leave your mouth. Talk about being blatant. You wouldn’t know subtlety if it hit you over the head with a collapsible table, apparently!

Rick considers this for a second, then leans up against the corridor with one foot pressed against the wall. He hasn’t dressed up for the occasion, wearing the same ratty jeans and hoodie that he was wearing the day before when you had lunch together. You lean next to him, trying to act nonchalant.

“I looked for you at lunch today,” you say, trying to break the awkward silence that has descended after your last stupid statement. “But you weren’t around.”

Rick shrugs. “Had shit to do. School’s not exactly my top priority these days.”

You want to press him on that, but manage to catch yourself before you do. He has that faraway look in his eyes again, like he’s already somewhere else just thinking about the idea of school. 

He would have elaborated by now if he was going to, so instead you ask: “What are you doing here then?”

“Shop teacher said if I help with the set-up, he’d let me have some of the old tools he was going to throw out. Seemed like a fair deal – stick up some tables, carry some shit. Couple hours work, for a sweet pay-off.”

“What do you need tools for?”

Rick gives you a side-eye, as if you’ve asked a particularly stupid question, but you’re not sure why. “To fix stuff. Cars.”

That would explain the motor oil on his neck yesterday, you realise. And now you’ve uncovered something you didn’t know before. “You fix cars?”

“You ask a lot of questions,” Rick fires back immediately, but you’re not about to be put off.

“I don’t know that much about you.”

Now it’s Rick’s turn to look confused. “And you actually want to?” he asks, as if the very idea is insane. 

“Only if you want to share.” You try and sound as sincere as possible. You’re not trying to push, or pump him for information or anything. But Rick’s intriguing, and you’d like to get to know him a little more. There’s nothing wrong with that...right?

Rick doesn’t say anything for a moment. You begin to worry that you’ve offended him, but as you’re about to apologise he speaks again, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Where are your folks? Didn’t you want to hang out with them, show ‘em how awesome Blue Valley High is?”

You notice that he’s changed the subject, but you don’t want to pry any harder than you already have. You’ve stated your intention; whatever he reveals from here on out is because he wants to, not for any other reason.

“They’re not here, they’ve done all this before with my brother.”

“So what are you doing here? You just love school that damn much?”

You shrug, mimicking Rick’s earlier gesture. “Didn’t have anything else to do. I’m glad I came though – I wouldn’t have been able to talk to you if I hadn’t.”

Rick takes a moment to digest that, which isn’t surprising – it takes you a moment to realise exactly what you’ve said. Your mouth seems to be running away with you today – something about Rick just makes you say things that should probably just stay as inner monologue. Maybe it’s the feeling that he won’t judge you, or say anything that he doesn’t mean. 

In this building packed full of falsehoods, Rick’s the most genuine person you know right now, and that makes it easy to let down your guard.

You decide to risk another question, while you’re feeling bold. “Are your parents here?”

You can tell that that’s the exact wrong thing to say the second you say it. Rick’s face clouds over as if a storm has just settled on his brow, and he turns away from you instantly.

“Nah. My unc...my dad’s too busy being a drunk to give a shit about how well I do at school. My mum’s gone.”

You feel sympathy well up within you immediately, and you reach out a hand towards him, as if your touch could make him feel any better. 

“Rick, I’m sorry, I didn’t-” you start to say, but that also turns out to be the wrong thing. Rick shrugs you off and starts to walk away, shoving his hands deep into his pockets and hunching over as if he can disappear into himself and away from this conversation.

“Forget it, it’s fine. You can stop pretending to give a damn now,” he calls back over his shoulder. “I don’t need you to feel sorry for me.”

You take a step away from the wall, ready to go after him and sort this out when a blonde streak knocks you backwards as it rushes past in the opposite direction.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry!” says the newcomer, stopping to put a hand on your shoulder and steady you on your feet. “I should really look where I’m going!”

“It’s fine, I’m alright,” you say, more shocked than hurt. “Oh, hey, you’re the new girl. Courtney, right?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” she confirms. She’s putting on a brave face, you realise; her smile feels more than a little fake, and her eyes keep darting away from you as if she’s got other things on her mind.

“Are you okay? You look a little...distracted,” you ask her, after giving her your name.

She smiles even harder. “I’m fine! Why wouldn’t I be fine? All good here!” 

She’s a terrible liar. But you know her even less than you know Rick, and for some reason your out-of-control mouth doesn’t seem to want to spit out random questions at her the way it does with him, so you just smile as kindly as you can manage.

Courtney interprets your silence as her cue to leave. “Nice to meet you. Sorry, but I really have to go. I’ll see you tomorrow!” she says before speeding off again like a tiny blonde comet.

You watch her go, mouth open a little in surprise and confusion. What was her deal?

And speaking of deals...You turn back down the corridor hoping to see Rick, but in the span of the few seconds you spent talking to Courtney, he’s vanished from sight entirely.

You look back and forth, up and down the corridor for a moment, from where Rick disappeared to Courtney’s rapidly retreating back.

Blue Valley High is fake, it’s true, but at least you know where you stand with it. Those two, on the other hand, are just plain weird.

You step out into the night, crossing the school parking lot on your way back home, once again lost in thought. 

You’re not sure if tonight was a bust or not; you’d wanted to find Rick, and you had. But had you managed to improve your relationship, or just reset any of the goodwill that you’d accrued yesterday on the football field back to zero?

You don’t know him very well at all, but you definitely get the sense that his anger just now wasn’t aimed at you, not exactly. The subject of his parents had been the trigger point, for whatever reason. Another piece of the Rick Harris mystery to slot into the puzzle. 

You kinda wish that you had the puzzle box so you could at least have a vague idea of the picture you’re working towards. But that’d take away half the fun.

And then there’s Courtney. She may be new, but you also get the feeling that she’s hiding something as well. Whether it’s a secret that she brought with her to Blue Valley, or something entirely new, you’re not sure.

There’s only room for one mystery at a time on your schedule right now though, and Rick definitely takes priority. Next time you see him, you’ll make this right.


	3. True Talent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set during the events of Stargirl 01x03 - Icicle

The morning after the Open House, you find yourself standing in the school parking lot with a huge group of other students, staring at what remains of the Blue Valley High School sign. To say that it’s seen better days would be putting it lightly. It looks as if someone has poured molten lava onto it, melting a huge chunk out of the middle. 

“Does anyone know what happened?” someone asks in the crowd, but only negative murmurs come back in answer. 

“They found it like this this morning, and there were some big holes in the asphalt too, like the Iron Giant had been walking around,” someone adds.

You shake your head in confusion. Probably some neighbouring football team trying to play a prank or something. Couldn’t they have just filled the mascot costume with shaving foam again like they did last year?

You’re about to head into the school building proper when you see Rick lingering a few feet away. You look towards the doorway, then over at the sign, and then back at Rick before making a decision; you can be a little late for home room for a change. Some things are more important than perfect attendance, and friendship, if that’s what this is (or is going to be), is most definitely one of them.

You wander over and join Rick as the crowd begins to disperse, not saying a word until the parking lot is empty aside from the two of you. He doesn’t move or speak for a few minutes, instead staring fixated at the sign like it might reveal its secrets to him if he glares at it hard enough.

“I didn’t mean to piss you off yesterday,” you say to him quietly. “I wasn’t trying to pry.”

Rick finally acknowledges your presence, turning to look at you, but his face is sceptical. You think he might shout at you for a second, but he must see something in your expression because instead he deflates like a very angry balloon.

“It’s alright. I didn’t mean to get mad. It’s just...parent stuff is a touchy subject.”

“Duly noted,” you say, giving him a mock salute. “Added to the list of topics not to talk about.”

Rick screws up his face in disbelief. “You still want to talk to me? Even after what I said last night?”

“Sure. I know you didn’t mean it. People say all sorts of stuff when they’re mad.”

“I’m sorry, okay?” He says it kind of roughly, like he’s not used to apologising and isn’t quite sure how to do it. “I got mad, and I snapped at you. My issues aren’t yours to deal with.”

You try and give him as warm a smile as you can manage. “Maybe not. But if you want to talk about them, I’ll listen. I’m pretty good at that. Only if you want to, though. Otherwise, I swear I won’t bring it up again.”

Rick considers this for a moment and seems to come to a satisfactory conclusion in his mind. “Alright. I’ll remember that.”

The school bell rings; you’re now officially late, for the first time in as long as you can remember. Part of you feels like that should be a big deal, but another, larger part can’t seem to care. In fact, it says that spending the day with Rick would be far more fun than going into school anyway. But, as adventurous as you’re being, playing hooky might be a step too far.

“C’mon, I’ll walk you to class,” you say to Rick, stepping towards the school building. “And then, maybe we can eat lunch together again later?” 

He smiles then, really smiles for the first time since you’ve known him properly. His entire face transforms, just for a second, like all the weight that he’s carrying is momentarily pushed away and he’s allowing himself to feel something other than anger or disappointment.

“I think I’d like that,” he says, and you can tell that you’re not the only one being sincere now.

****

*********

Stepping into the school proper however erases all thoughts of lunch from your mind. The hallways are rammed with students in various costumes, with arms full of props and coloured banners and other decorations.

You slap your forehead in disbelief. “Oh crap, the talent show’s today. I forgot all about it!”

“Great. Another chance for all the sheep to show off,” Rick hisses, his good mood already evaporating like a puddle in a desert.

“Something else you’re not a fan of, I assume?” you ask him absently, mentally running through the checklist of things you might need in order to perform.

Luckily, your talent is singing. You’re not great, nowhere near, but you can hold a tune well enough. You’re not exactly dressed for the stage, but it’ll have to do. And there are plenty of songs on your phone you can queue up, so all you’ll need is a microphone and…

It takes you a moment to realise that while you’ve been wandering down the corridor towards your locker, Rick has remained at the big double doors that you entered through. His teeth are clenched, his cheekbones stark against the skin.

You double back and join him, concern creasing your forehead. “Hey, what’s up? Come on, we’ve gotta go.”

“I don’t think I do, actually,” he says. He’s looking out at the rest of the student body with something bordering on derision. “I don’t have a talent, and I don’t feel like carrying around everything like somebody’s servant. Last night was more than enough for me.”

“Rick, wait-” you begin, but he’s already turned and shoved the doors open. He stops on the threshold to shoot you a glance; it’s one part disappointment, another part...pain? You can’t really tell over his shoulder. 

“I gotta get out of here. Don’t snitch on me, alright?”

“Al...alright. Are you sure you’re okay? I can come with you, if you want?” You’re both surprised and not surprised at all to realise that you mean it.

Rick shakes his head, but his earlier sincerity is no longer present. “I just need to be alone for a while. All that...it’s not for me.”

He doesn’t even wait for you to reply; he just there one second, and then gone the next.

You think about going after him, despite what he’s said; last night you were waylaid by Courtney, but this time there’s nothing stopping you from chasing him. 

No one would miss you at the talent show. That’s not a comment about your talent or lack thereof, it’s just a fact that the whole show is mostly just an excuse for Cindy Burman and her friends to show off anyway; they’ve done the Rockin’ Around The Pole number from Mean Girls two years in a row now. Her lack of self-awareness is astounding.

Rick, meanwhile, might need you. Something’s bothering him, or something he’s seen here has set him off, and you have no idea what. Maybe he’ll want to talk about it. Or maybe he won’t, but at least you’ll be there if he does. All that anger that he carries around can’t be healthy, surely. If you can help him unload some of it, then you should...right?

You take one step towards the doors when, as if summoned by your negative thoughts about her, Cindy appears with a clipboard in hand. “You!” she says, pointing a perfectly manicured nail in your face. “You’re on third today, after Joey Zarrick; getting the chaff out of the way so that the actually talented people get to shine.”

“Actually, I was going to skip-” you start, but Cindy’s like a steam train; once she gets started, she won’t stop for anyone. She thrusts a badge with a number 3 on it at you, stabbing it into your chest so hard that it draws blood.

“Ouch!”

“Oh, suck it up. Now you better be on time, or I’ll make your life a living hell.” Again, her lack of self-awareness is astounding; as if she doesn’t do that already.

As much as you want to deny her, right there in front of everyone in the corridor, your confidence doesn’t extend quite that far. Maybe if Rick was still here to see it, you’d manage. But he’s gone, and you’ve got no chance of catching up with him now.

And drawing Cindy’s ire is more than your life’s worth, quite literally. Everyone knows what happened to Yolanda Montez when she got in Cindy’s way; you don’t exactly want that, or something equally as humiliating, to happen to you. Being a social pariah by choice is one thing, but having it inflicted upon you by Cindy is tantamount to high school suicide.

So instead you plaster on a disingenuous smile and nod at her. “Sure, fine, whatever. I’ll be there.”

“Great, perfect, now get out of my sight.” She bustles away, and you resist the urge to take off your stupid number three badge and throw it at the back of her head.

****

*********

So, it turns out that the talent show didn’t blow quite as hard as you thought it would. In fact, it was pretty good fun. Your song wasn’t a huge hit, but you didn’t miss any of the notes and your voice didn’t crack at all, so that’s an improvement on last year at least.

And now you’re on the bus home, with most of the other performers. Something about the camaraderie of working together, even if you were all separate acts, to make sure that the show went off without a hitch has brought you closer, even if just for one night.

It definitely helps that toxic Cindy isn’t with you; as if she’d ever deign to ride the bus like a normal person.

The air is full of laughter and joking; you’ve all hustled up together instead of leaving loads of empty seats, and even you are surprised at how genuine it all feels. Maybe high school isn’t all bad.

It’s a shame that Rick isn’t here to enjoy it with you, though. You hope that, wherever he is right now, he’s feeling better.

That’s the last coherent thought you have though, because that’s when everything goes wrong.

Suddenly the bus begins to swerve and buck, as if its tires have lost all traction, throwing you and all of the other students roughly around the cabin. 

You don’t even have time to complain before there’s a horrific crunching noise and the bus ploughs into the concrete bridge railing, taking out a good twenty feet of it before even beginning to slow down.

You think that’ll be the end of it, that the bus will just slow to a stop, but then it begins to jack-knife, the back of the bus hanging freely over the side of the bridge. 

Everything is suspended in time for the longest second of your life before the bus begins to tip backwards, heading down, down, down towards the dark, freezing river below.

All you can do is scream. People are falling around you; you see Joey Zarrick plunge right to the bottom, hitting the emergency exit window at the back of the bus with a crash; Beth Chapel’s singing wine glasses scatter every-which-way, shattering wherever they manage to land.

You’re going to die. You’re going to fall off the bridge, hit the water, and either drown or freeze to death if the impact doesn’t kill you, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

But then, miraculously, the bus begins to rise back up. You can’t see the back window from your vantage point of hanging onto your seat for dear life, and you’re definitely not going to try moving just to see what’s going on and risk falling down to join Joey. But there are definitely screams of happiness, of relief, coming from that direction; whatever’s going on, it’s a good thing.

And then, just as quickly as you began to fall, you’re back on the bridge and it’s all over. It probably only took thirty seconds or so from the bus driver losing control to now, but it feels like hours before you’re able to burst free of the bus and take refuge on the asphalt.

You’re breathing heavily, as if you’ve run for miles, and adrenaline and fear mix together in your bloodstream like a horrible cocktail of self-preservation.

You’re alive, though. You sink to the ground next to what remains of the bridge’s concrete railing, taking deep breaths to slow your heart rate. You’re alive. You’re safe. You’re going to be okay.

You’re just about back to yourself again, your heart a dull pounding in your chest instead of in your ears, when you see a playing card drift past you, followed by Joey. 

There’s no time to stop him, no time to cry out before a truck horn blares, followed by a horrific thump that will play out in your memory until the day you die.

****

*********

Joey’s dead. You all survived the bus crash, somehow, only for him to fall foul of a passing truck. It’s awful, as well as absolutely terrifying, and you’re still shaking when your mom arrives to take you home.

You sit silently in the back seat, replaying it all over and over in your mind. There was nothing you could have done to save the bus, or to save Joey, and yet somehow you feel responsible anyway. Why do you get to live while poor innocent Joey died?

And, more confusingly, there’s another thought that’s dancing through your mind, one that you can’t seem to fathom out no matter how hard you try. Why, when you thought all hope was lost and you were going to die, was Rick Harris the only person you could think about?

You just want to be friends, right? There’s no reason for you to feel anything more than that. You barely know the guy, to start with, and most of your interactions with him have ended in him storming off in a rage. So why can’t you get him out of your head? Why, when the bus was tipping and the river getting closer and closer, was his face the one you saw in your mind’s eye?

And why, when you were sitting, shivering by the side of the river, waiting for your mom to come and get you, was he the only person you wanted to see?

Your feelings are like a knot in your chest, one that grows tighter and tighter with each pulse of your heart; you just need to see Rick, and then everything will make sense, you think.

But even that doesn’t seem quite right. How has he managed to take up so much real estate in your head, when you barely know him?

Maybe that’s your real talent, you think as your mom pulls into the driveway; surely no one else on the planet is as good as you at letting their feelings get entirely out of their control.

And, now that you’ve realised quite how convoluted your feelings have become, what are you going to do about them?


	4. The Best In Everyone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set during the events of Stargirl 01x04 - Wildcat

Rick hasn’t been at school the past few days. This probably isn’t new for him, but you’ve never paid much attention to his comings and goings before, so it feels far more noteworthy this time. And it doesn’t help that he’s nowhere to be found at exactly the time you most desperately want to see him.

You know he lives on the outskirts of town, but you don’t want to just turn up on his doorstep; that’d be creepy. So instead you just continue to fret and keep an eye out for him everywhere you go. Blue Valley’s a small town – you have to run into each other at some point...right?

Eventually, you end up in Blue Valley Memorial Hospital. It’s just a routine check-up, a final once over to make sure that there aren’t any lingering effects from the bus crash that might have been missed the first time around. You’d rather skip it but you know that going will make your parents feel better, so you endure being poked and prodded and asked ridiculous questions for a short while before emerging back into the main waiting room.

You’re fine, physically. You had a bruise from hitting one of the bus seats when it initially tipped which has gone down considerably now, and nothing to worry about other than that. 

The mental trauma will likely take a lot longer to heal; for all you decry it, Blue Valley is a safe place, usually. To have that safety mat pulled out from under you in such a violent manner...that’s not something you get over in just a few days. 

But it’s also not something they’re equipped to deal with in a medical hospital – especially since you’ve told them that you’re fine every time they’ve asked. It’s just easier to deal with it on your own terms than worry other people, at least for now.

You stretch and look around for the nearest exit. Hospitals aren’t high on your list of favourite places, and the quicker you’re out of here, the better. It smells sterile, almost to the point of burning your nose.

There’s a big green exit sign hanging over one of the doors and you head towards it, eager to escape. You’re not even halfway across the room however when the door swings open and you spot a familiar face coming through towards you. A shock of red hair and a blue and yellow Blue Valley High letterman jacket tell you all you need to know – Henry King Jr. is on his way in.

You rack your brain for a minute; he wasn’t on the bus for the talent show, so he can’t be here because of that. Maybe a football injury? He doesn’t seem to be in any pain; he’s walking fine, although his face is a mask of sadness. You can’t remember ever seeing him like that; although, it’s not like you pay much attention to him other than to stay out of his way.

It’s then that you remember some gossip from a week or so ago at school – his dad, Henry Sr., is in a coma here somewhere.

For all Cindy Burman’s horribleness, Henry’s never really been outwardly mean to you. He’s not particularly pleasant, but you’ve always had the feeling that his heart’s not really in it.

Henry, like pretty much everyone at Blue Valley High, is far more complicated than they first appear on the surface. But you’ve not tried to break down many walls before; you’ve never had the inclination. Your recent successes (you’re calling them that, even if they haven’t always been as successful as you’d like) with Rick however, coupled with the sadness that seems to be radiating off of Henry in waves, gives you the motivation to try.

“Henry?” you ask as he walks past. He hasn’t noticed you, understandably; he must have an awful lot on his mind, and it’s not really like you would have expected him to say hello even if he didn’t. He’s one of the popular kids, and you’re...you.

To your surprise though, he pulls up short and looks at you for a second, as if he’s trying to remember your face. A lightbulb seems to go on behind his eyes after a moment.

“Oh, hey. Did you want something?” He’s a little brusque, but not exactly rude. A good start.

You shake your head slightly. “Not really, no. Just wanted to make sure you’re alright. How’s your dad?”

Henry’s face creases up even further, like you’ve kicked him in the chest. He looks like he’s going to chew you out, but then he just sighs. The guy has an unfortunate case of resting bitch face, you realise. No wonder most people are intimidated by him.

“No change,” he breathes, the disappointment obvious in his voice. “Still exactly the same as when they brought him in.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t even imagine how hard this must be for you.” You reach out your hand to place it on his arm, then reconsider halfway through. You’re not friends; he probably wouldn’t appreciate that.

“Thanks. You’re one of the first people to actually ask about him in like a week,” he tells you, which is definitely not what you expected to hear. “Most of my friends don’t care; it was just a one-off drama for them, and now that it’s not interesting any more they’ve mostly just forgotten about it.” There’s resignation there, like he wants to confront them about their lack of empathy, but knows that it wouldn’t be worth it.

“You ever think that maybe they’re not really your friends, if that’s how little they care about you?” Again with your mouth acting before your brain can get into gear! What is wrong with you lately?

But Henry just smirks knowingly, as if he’s well aware of how awful his friends really are. “It’s just how it is,” he says with a look to the ceiling. “The football team are all friends, and we date the cheerleaders. It’s how it’s always been, it’s just how high school works.”

You cross your arms and give him a look that you hope says ‘Really?’. “Just because something is the way it is, doesn’t mean it’s the way it _should be_.”

“Not like I’m strong enough to change it, though,” Henry says immediately, then seems to realise a) who he’s talking to and b) what he’s said. Instantly his guard is back up, and his face is contorted into a frown. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

It was nice while it lasted, you think to yourself. “I guess I do. Still, I am sorry. I hope your dad gets better soon.”

Henry shakes his head and storms off; you can’t tell if he’s more angry at you now, or himself. 

Of all the people at Blue Valley High to be aware of the stupidity of the social hierarchy, Henry King Jr. was the last one you expected. That’s twice you’ve been surprised lately. Maybe there really is more to Blue Valley High than you thought.

*********

It’s been nearly a week since you saw Rick last, and you’re getting more than a little panicked about it now. But there’s no one to ask, no one who gives enough of a crap to find out where he is, except you. The idea of wandering up the path towards where you think he lives is getting more and more appealing.

You find yourself standing at the end of the trail one morning before school, debating with yourself over whether to walk up it or not. 

Rick might just be sick, you reason. Or he might have run away from home, says the more pessimistic part of your brain. Or he might just be playing hooky, and everything is totally fine, you argue back, getting yourself nowhere.

A multitude of possible scenarios run through your head, and you find yourself having to blink a few times to calm your mind. You can’t change anything until you have all the facts; you’ll have to go see Rick and get the truth for yourself.

But as soon as you put one foot on the trail, you hear footsteps coming towards you. You look up to see Rick emerge from behind a tree, backpack slung over his shoulder and a look of confusion on his face, his eyebrows nearly knitted together.

“The hell are you doing here?” he asks as he pulls up to you. “Don’t you usually take the bus?” You fall into step beside him, and you both begin to make your way towards the school. 

You’ve subconsciously rehearsed what you were going to say to Rick so many times by now, but now that he’s right in front of you all of your flowery words have disappeared. Instead, you only manage to say: “I was getting worried about you. You hadn’t been at school for a few days, and I thought you might have been sick or something.”

It sounds lame as soon as you say it. Rick’s expression morphs from confusion at your presence to confusion at your apparent concern. “I’m fine,” he says. “I just needed a few days out. I didn’t think anyone missed me.”

“Well, I did.”

“I’m not used to that,” Rick admits, as you stop at a crosswalk to wait for the light to change. “Someone giving a shit, I mean. I wasn’t trying to worry you.”

“I wasn’t worried, exactly.” You’re trying to backpedal, but Rick’s onto you now.

“Yeah you were. You gave a shit. You can’t ungive it now. That’s not how it works.”

“You seem to know a lot about it,” you say defensively, “especially for someone who doesn’t seem to give a shit about anything.”

“I give plenty of shits,” he replies. He’s smiling now, clearly enjoying this ridiculous conversation. It’s amazing how much his face changes when he smiles. “Just not about things that most other people give them about.”

“You’ll have to tell me about them sometime.”

“Maybe I will,” he says, with a sly grin.

“What happened last week, with the talent show? One second you were there with me, and the next it was like you were somewhere else.”

Rick’s expression grows dark, and the smile that you’d fought so hard to see disappears. “Everyone showing off doesn’t really do it for me. I don’t...I don’t have much to be proud about.”

“That’s not true! Everyone’s got a talent; maybe you just haven’t found yours yet.”

“I’ve heard that before,” Rick says with a snort. “The school guidance counsellor says that every time I see her.”

“What about your cars? You said you like fixing stuff. Alright, it’s not like you could get up on stage and fix a car for everyone to see, but not all talents are performative.”

“Big word.”

“Rick, I’m serious!”

“Yeah...I know.” He waves a hand airily, trying to make light of the situation before saying: “Talking about feelings and shit isn’t exactly one of my talents either.”

You try not to laugh at that comment. “Now that, I did know.”

Rick looks over at you, as if he’s surprised to see you hurling insults at him. For a split second, you think you might have gone too far. But then his incredulous look cracks into another smile, and he shakes his head in disbelief. “Is this what happens when you’re friends with people? They make fun of you?”

“Not the only thing, but it’s definitely part of it.” You nod sagely, as if you’re the expert on friendship. Compared to Rick, you probably are. “Anyway, you don’t have anything to be ashamed of. It wasn’t like the talent show was much fun anyway; we were all just a warm-up for Cindy Burman.”

Suddenly Rick seems tentative, like he’s walking on conversational eggshells. “I heard about what happened with the bus. Were you there?” And then softer, quieter: “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I was on the bus. It wasn’t my favourite experience,” you say, avoiding his eyes. “But I’m alright. Much better than some people.”

“Poor Joey. Kid never did anything to anyone.”

“I know, it was awful. I wish there was something I could have done. I saw him run past me, and then...it was already too late.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” Rick says, and now it’s your turn to be surprised. “Maybe I could have...I dunno, stopped him or something.”

“I wanted to talk to you about that actually,” you begin. He’s in a talkative mood now, so maybe he’ll be more receptive to what you have to say. ‘You’re all I can think about lately’ isn’t the easiest topic of conversation to broach.

As you go to continue however, you see Henry and his band of football buddies on the opposite side of the street. Most of them are laughing and joking loudly, not paying any attention to either you or Rick.

Henry looks over at you however, a lull in the conversation making his eyes wander. He doesn’t acknowledge you aside from making eye contact, and then seems to redouble his efforts to be as loud as possible. Your little moment in the hospital is obviously a distant memory; now that he’s in public, he’s back to the Henry that you’re used to, rather than the vulnerable, almost human one you saw for a brief moment.

“What a douche,” Rick says. “Let’s take the long way to school, I don’t want to listen to them all the way in.”

He doesn’t wait for you to agree, walking across the crosswalk and up another street in the opposite direction to Henry and the football team. You’re going to be late again, you realise dimly, but the part of you that cares is getting smaller and smaller every time it happens.

“He’s actually not as bad as you might think,” you tell him as you catch up, jogging a few steps to fall back in line. “I saw him at the hospital, going to see his dad. I think a lot of what we see every day is just him playing pretend, to be honest.”

Rick snorts derisively. “He’s not smart enough to put on an act. Henry’s just an asshole, like the rest of his asshole friends. You know what he did to Yolanda, right?”

You do. You’re acutely aware of it every time you see her, or Cindy, in the school hallways. But something about Henry makes you pause; he can be a dick, yeah. But you’ve never seen him be outwardly cruel, not like that.

“I don’t think that was him,” you admit. “Or at least, not entirely. It definitely seems more like something Cindy would do.”

“Yolanda was _his_ girlfriend. Those pictures were for him, not for the rest of the school. There’s no way Cindy could have gotten hold of them without Henry knowing.”

It’s difficult to argue with that. It’s a well-known fact that whatever Cindy wants, she inevitably gets. But even so…

“I just don’t think Henry would do something like that. He might not admit it, but I think he feels bad about all that.”

Rick stops and stares at you as if you’ve grown a second head. “I’m sorry, are you and Henry best friends now? One little chat in the hospital about his poor sick dad, and you know how his brain works? I don’t think so. Actions speak louder than words, so I don’t care what he said to you, he’s still a giant dick until he proves otherwise.”

“Rick, I didn’t mean-”

“Maybe you should walk to school with him instead of me,” he says, shaking his head. 

“I don’t want to walk with him, I want to walk with you! Why is the idea of someone wanting to spend time with you so hard to grasp?”

“Because it doesn’t make any sense!” Rick stops dead this time, hands flaring out to illustrate his point. “No one likes me. I don’t need people to like me. I’m happy just being on my own, but you keep trying to...insert yourself into my life for some stupid reason! What’s your damage?”

You stop too, unsure of what to say. “Are you really happy on your own? Really? Because I don’t think you are.”

“And so what if I’m not? You think you can just come in here and make me happy? Wave a magic wand, smile at me a little, and suddenly I’ll be a whole different person? Newsflash, that’s not how people work!”

“I’m not- that’s not what I’m trying to do at all! I’m just trying to be your friend!”

“Yeah well, you’re doing a lousy job of it.”

You know that. This conversation isn’t going the way you wanted it to in the slightest; it’s turned into an argument, for a start. But hearing Rick say it makes it real, makes it true, and it’s like a slap to the face.

“So first you want to be my friend, and then you try and defend Henry, of all people? Is that what you do? Just see the best in everyone? Because that’s not how people work, either.”

“No – I just call it like I see it. There’s good in Henry somewhere, just like there’s good in you. But maybe you’re too angry to see it.”

That’s another mistake. You definitely shouldn’t have said that. But it’s said now, and there’s no taking it back. Like Rick said before, you can’t ungive a shit once you’ve given it, and the same goes for the truth.

Rick’s shaking his head slowly, his hands balled into fists and his eyes narrowed. “You don’t know Henry. And you definitely don’t know me. I’m outta here.”

“Rick! Rick, wait!”

But he doesn’t slow, or even turn back to look at you. He powers off, turns a corner, and disappears yet again.

Now you’ve done it, you think. Why couldn’t you have just kept your mouth shut? Of all the people that need defending at school, Henry is the last one you should be worrying about.

And now Henry King Jr. has managed to wreck your relationship with the one friend you thought you might have had a chance at making at Blue Valley High, without even realising it.

You had wanted to talk to Rick about how you feel, but there’s no way you’ll be able to bring it up with him now, not while he’s so mad. You’d hoped that talking to him might help you sort out exactly what it was that you felt but, for now at least, those feelings will have to go frustratingly unresolved.


	5. The Fuse Is Lit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set during the events of Stargirl 01x05 - Hourman & Dr. Mid-Nite

Halloween is one of your favourite times of year in Blue Valley; despite your general views on how fake and artificial the place is, the whole point of Halloween is to dress up and be someone you’re not for a change, so it almost seems to come full circle and feel genuine.

Not that you have many plans. There are parties being thrown around town, like Cindy Burman’s annual blow-out bash, but of course you’ve not been invited. You’re a little old to go trick or treating on your own as well, so instead you’re going to dress up and surprise any of the kids that knock on your door tonight. You can have some Halloween fun without even leaving the house.

You were a little late leaving this morning so you’ve missed the bus, which means you’ve got to walk to school instead. The fact that the quickest route takes you past the trail that leads to Rick’s house does not escape your notice.

You’ve not spoken to him since he exploded at you a few days back about Henry. You’ve replayed the conversation over and over in your mind so many times that you can recite it all from memory. It doesn’t get any better no matter how many times you go through it. 

And yet, despite his anger, you still want to see Rick again. He’s constantly on your mind, and no matter what you do you can’t seem to shake him.

You’re acutely aware that this isn’t how you’re meant to feel about someone that you just want to be friends with. But you can’t even manage to get past that hurdle, so anything more than that is entirely out of the question for now.

Friendship first. Anything else is a bonus.

So lost in thought are you that it takes you a moment to realise that Rick’s actually walking a few feet ahead of you. He hasn’t seen you or, if he has, he’s playing dumb.

You could ignore him. You could cross the street and walk ahead. You could power past him and force him to make the first move. 

But all of those choices feel like you’re giving him the power, and that’s the entire problem. Every time you’ve spoken to him and he’s gotten mad, you’ve let him get away with it. You’ve let him explode, and then ran and hid from the aftershocks instead of riding out the storm.

It’s time you take back control. If you really want to be friends (or anything else) with this guy, then you need to get through his defences and learn exactly who he is. You’d thought you’d made a little headway on that front, but...

You screw up your courage and speed up a little until you draw level with Rick. He doesn’t acknowledge you, pointedly staring ahead with those dark eyes of his until you poke your head around him into his field of vision.

“Hi.”

Rick looks at you through hooded eyes and carries on walking. “I’m not in the mood,” he says gruffly, but you’re not to be deterred.

“Tough. I am. I have something I want to say to you, and you’re going to hear it whether you want to or not.”

Your forwardness seems to take him by surprise, and he slows to a stop. You think he might start shouting, but instead he just waves a hand at you, as if he’s asking you to take the stage. “Come on then, get it over with.”

“I’ve been thinking about our last conversation...like, a lot. And for a while, I thought I should apologise,” you begin.

“I don’t want an apology. It’s fine, whatever,” Rick says, and attempts to start walking again but you block him with your entire body, saying: “I’m not finished.

“I was going to apologise, but on reflection, I don’t think I need to. I didn’t do anything wrong. I told you how I felt and, because you didn’t agree with me, you got angry and stormed off. That seems to be your go-to, actually. You hear something you don’t like, get mad, and leave.”

Rick’s hands have balled into fists at his side, and his jaw is as tense as a fisherman’s line. “Is there a point to this, or are you just trying to insult me?” he asks through gritted teeth.

“All I’m trying to say is, that I like you, Rick. I want to get to know you better, maybe even be your friend if that’s something you’d let me do. But you’re making it really, really hard. I feel like we could both use a friend right now; I thought we’d made a connection, after the football field and stuff, but every time since then you’ve just tried to push me away. I’m not trying to force you into anything, but I like spending time with you, when you’re not screaming in my face, and I’d like to do it more often. But only if you really want to, as well.”

Rick’s knuckles are stark white against his skin from how hard he’s been clenching them, but he’s chewing this over, quite literally, his jaw working as he tries to think of what to say to any of that. 

You notice fresh cuts across the tops of one hand, like he’s lashed out at a wall or something. You want to ask him about it, but you also don’t want to break his concentration. Depending on how he answers you now, he might not tell you even if you do ask.

Finally you can see the internal battle within him come to a conclusion, and you wait patiently for his reply. After a further moment, he fixes you with an intense stare, one that you couldn’t look away from even if you wanted to (and you most certainly don’t).

“I’ve got...issues,” he says, and you fight the urge to interrupt with a sarcastic comment. “I know that. I’m always so full of...of anger, it’s like I’m going to explode. Some days I just want to hit everything until it all goes away. And sometimes I explode at the wrong people.

“I know you’re trying to be my friend, I do. And I want to be yours. I’ve never had someone who...who actually cares what I do. But it’s not something I’m...designed for, I don’t think. I don’t know how to let people care about me.

“You say that there’s good in me, but some days, more often than I care to admit, it doesn’t feel like it. The rage inside me, it blots out everything else, like a fog over my eyes so all I can see is the bad. 

“I think that’s why we clash so much – you see the good, where I won’t, or...can’t. I don’t know if this is going to work, if it even can work. Maybe we’re too different, too opposed, to really be friends.”

The more Rick speaks, the more your heart is breaking. This is probably the most he’s ever said to you in one go, and every syllable feels like a sledgehammer to the heart. His next words are a breath of fresh air in comparison.

“But I’m willing to try. I know it’s not going to be an easy road, for either of us. But I...I’ll try and...be better. If you give me another chance, I’ll do my best, whatever that looks like. Just don’t expect much.”

You’re smiling; you don’t know when that happened. But you are, and so is Rick, as if unburdening himself like that has dispelled some of the fog around his brow. His hands unclench, and he gives you a nod. “Is that...okay?”

“More than okay,” you say to him. “All I’m asking is that you give us a chance, and we’ll just see where it goes from there. Now, shall we get to school? Bowin’ll probably lecture us to death if we’re late.”

“I guess so,” Rick says. He’s reluctant to move but, once you set off, he joins you a few seconds after. “You doing anything for Halloween?” he asks, as if everything is normal, as if he hasn’t just finished pouring out his heart to you.

“Nothing special,” you tell him. “Just hanging at home. You?”

“I’m working. I do deliveries.”

“Who needs deliveries on Halloween night?” you ask; you’re not suspicious, just confused.

“Parties need kegs. I need cash.”

“Aren’t you undera-” you begin, but stop yourself mid-sentence. You already know the answer to that, and you’re not going to take the conversation anywhere good if you press him too hard. 

“So, what happened to your hand?” you ask instead, changing the subject.

“I punched a tree,” he replies with a wry smile.

More confusion on your part, but again, not worth prying too hard just yet. Instead, you try the humour track: “Did it deserve it, at least?”

“It absolutely did.” And that’s all he’ll say on the matter.

*********

It’s been surprisingly quiet for Halloween. You’ve managed to eat your way through half the bowl of candy waiting for people to arrive; maybe Blue Valley’s grown out of trick or treating. You look up at the clock; it’s nearly ten. Any of the kids that were going to come around today will be in bed, or on their way home already. Halloween’s essentially over.

If it wasn’t for the fact that you’re still kind of riding high on your breakthrough with Rick earlier, you’d probably be feeling a lot more disappointed. 

Your parents are out, of course. They have some big Halloween party with all of the other parents that don’t have kids of trick or treating age, which means you have the house to yourself.

You stand up, your Halloween costume billowing out around you. It’s just a cape with a pointed collar, and there are some plastic vampire fangs on the coffee table; you had to take them out in order to stuff your face with candy. 

“Guess that’s it for another year,” you say to yourself, heading towards the stairs. You can get rid of the costume and get ready for bed, then veg out in front of old Halloween movies on the TV until you fall asleep.

You’ve got one foot on the bottom step when the doorbell rings. You frown, but collect what remains of the candy in the bowl, hastily throwing the empty wrappers on the floor out of sight, and open the front door.

“Happy Hallowe-Oh. Hi.”

It’s Rick. He’s not dressed up, although the idea that he’d been trick or treating, let alone trick or treating on his own, is frankly laughable. Surprisingly, he looks...excited?

“Hey. Can I come in? I...really needed someone to talk to, and you’re like the only person who listens when I talk.”

“Sure, sure. Come in. How did you know where I live?”

“Just because I fade into the background at school doesn’t mean I don’t pay attention. Nice cape, by the way,” he says with a grin as you stand aside and lead him into the living room. You tear it off and throw it over the bannisters as you pass them, suddenly embarrassed. 

Rick points at the candy wrappers that litter the coffee table, his grin growing wider. “Although I’m guessing you’re probably more Count Chocula than Count Dracula, going by the amount of candy left in that bowl?”

“Shut up. I was hungry.”

“Hey, no judgement,” Rick says with a chuckle. He flops onto your couch, but soon readjusts himself so that he’s sitting right on the edge of the cushions, leaning forwards as if he’s ready to up and leave at a moment’s notice. That makes you feel a little sad; even when you’ve invited him in, he doesn’t feel like he belongs.

You place the candy bowl on the coffee table next to your fangs and sit down next to him, pointedly making sure that there’s an empty seat between you. “Everything okay? Did you make your deliveries alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, all fine,” Rick says. His leg is bouncing now, knee flying up and down in a crazy rhythm like a typewriter’s hammer. There’s a bulge in his sweater, just over his heart, like he’s wearing an oversized necklace. You’ve never noticed that before. 

“That’s not what I wanted to talk to you about though; I found out some stuff tonight, stuff I never knew, and I just...didn’t know where else to go.”

“Stuff about?”

“My parents. My real parents.”

There’s more going on here than you’re privy to. So you sit back and give Rick your undivided attention; you want him to feel safe, to feel like he can tell you these things. He’s come to you, so you want to make sure his faith isn’t misplaced.

“My name’s not really Rick Harris. It’s Rick Tyler,” he begins, and you can see the strained look on his face as he speaks, like he has to force these revelations past his lips. But there’s relief there too, as if speaking them into existence is helping him to understand them, to make them a part of him. 

“Harris is my mom’s maiden name. The guy that everyone thinks is my dad, he’s my uncle, my mom’s brother. My real dad was a guy named Rex Tyler. He and my mom left Blue Valley nearly ten years ago.”

You already want to comment, to tell him how sorry you are, but you don’t want to stop him now that he’s started, terrified that he’ll clam up and not get to the point he wants to make.

“But that wasn’t the half of it. The night they left, they were in a car accident. They swerved off the road and hit a tree. Killed on impact. Or at least, that’s what I thought.

“Tonight I found out that it wasn’t an accident. There were these people, bad people, that wanted my parents dead. So they had them killed. And these people have gotten away with it for all these years. They’re still around, in Blue Valley, even now.”

He’s not looking at you, fixated on the bowl of candy. You get the feeling that he’s not really present, that he’s reliving what he’s learned tonight in his mind’s eye and relaying it to you.

“And now I know. And, more than that, I have the power to make it right. To hurt the people that killed my parents, that made me live with my asshole of an uncle, that gave me this life instead of the one I could have had with people who actually loved me. I can hurt them, just as much as they hurt me.”

“Rick, I...” 

You’re still processing. It’s a lot to take in, and you can only imagine how much more it is for Rick himself. But one thing definitely stands out to you as wrong, as not the kind of thing a good person would say. “Are you sure that’s what you want? Don’t you want to bring the people that hurt you to justice, instead of hurting them back? I can’t pretend to understand what you’re going through, but surely-”

Rick stands up suddenly, shaking his head. You’ve seen this before. You know what’s coming next, but you can’t stop it once it’s started. He turns to you, eyes blazing with fury. “You’re right. You don’t know anything about it. You don’t know anything about me. And I was a fool to think you’d understand. But you’re just like the others, more worried about something as stupid as justice when my parents are _dead_! Justice won’t bring them back, but revenge will make the people that hurt me hurt just as much as I do! Don’t they deserve that? Don’t I?” 

He’s already heading towards the door by the time you get to your feet after him. 

“Rick, wait, stop, we can talk about this!” you say impotently, but he’s already halfway down your garden path. You’re adamant that he’s not going to get away; you’ve let him do this one too many times, he’s not doing it again.

“Get lost!” he shouts back. “I don’t know what I thought would happen, what I thought you’d be able to help me with. I told you, we’re not supposed to be friends. We’re not good for each other. I’ve got the strength now to deal with this on my own; I don’t need you. I don’t need _anybody!_ ”

“That’s not true! Please, come back inside, we can talk about-”

He lashes out with a foot and it connects with one of your mom’s flowerpots. You expect it to fall over or crack, but instead it sails clear across the street and shatters in your neighbour’s front yard, some fifty feet away. 

You watch it arc through the air, eyes growing wider and wider as you do so. This isn’t possible. No one should be able to do that. Those flowerpots are rock solid, for crying out loud. 

The part of you that feels scared, that is intimidated by this sudden display of inhuman strength, is drowned out by your curiosity.

“Rick, what the- how in the hell did you do that?”

But, of course, he’s already gone.

You’ve been worried about Rick before; when he’s missed school, or when he’s yelled at you, but that all pales in comparison to now. There’s something deeply, deeply wrong here.

Every time he shoves you away, you keep coming back. How many times are you going to do that before you take the hint? It’s one step forward, one step back – your friendship can’t get off the ground if you just keep standing still.

Maybe he really doesn’t need you. Maybe he really would be better off on his own. He said he’d try to be your friend, but the first chance he got, he’s pushed you aside again.

This time feels different though. This time there’s something more to the story, even after all that Rick told you. Like, how on earth did he just kick a massive ceramic flowerpot across an entire street without breaking his foot? And who told him those things about his parents in the first place? And what _others_ was he talking about? 

A quest for vengeance won’t end well, no matter what Rick’s intentions are. With all those emotions rattling around in his head, as well as these horrible truths that he’s uncovered somehow, he’s a powder keg just waiting to explode. More than that, he’s going to self-destruct. And that brings with it a whole new set of worries.

Will you be able to stop Rick in time to save him from himself? And, if you try, are you going to be able to keep yourself safe, or are you just setting yourself up to get caught in the blast?


	6. Under The Mask

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set during the events of Stargirl 01x06 - The Justice Society

It’s the day after Halloween, and you’ve not slept a wink. All you can think about is Rick; how he’s on the warpath, and about to get someone hurt – most likely himself.

You had grappled with the idea of not going after him for all of ten seconds before realising that you’re committed now, and there’s no going back. You care about Rick, possibly more than you’ve cared about anyone before, and there’s no way in hell you’re going to leave him to deal with this on his own. 

If something happens to you as a result, then so be it. You couldn’t live with yourself if you took a step back and something happened to Rick instead, something that you could have helped prevent if you were there.

You leave the house as early as you can without arousing suspicion, and head towards the trail that leads to Rick’s house. You’re hoping to catch him before school, to try and talk him down, or at least get him to postpone going on a rampage until you’ve established exactly what it entails. You know there is more to the story than what he told you last night, that there are details he purposefully hid from you for whatever reason. But you know enough to know that you have to help him.

You expect something momentous to happen when you put your foot on the trail for the first time, like the floor to open up and swallow you, or a voice to tell you to turn back. But of course, nothing of the sort occurs – you’re being silly. And worse, you’re stalling.

The path is well worth by car traffic but it’s not a proper road, so you have to keep an eye on your feet to make sure you don’t fall over. Turning up at Rick’s house is going to be weird enough without turning up covered in dirt.

About halfway down the trail you pass a tree by the side of the road. It’s exactly the same as all of the other trees that line the trail, aside from the fact that it’s very obviously been hit by a truck, or a very large car, in the past. It’s not exactly broken, but the impact still shows even after all this time.

This must be where Rick’s parents...where they died. You reach out a hand to touch the bark, but retract your fingers a few inches away from making contact; it feels too much like you’d be touching someone’s grave. 

“I’ll look out for him,” you whisper into thin air. “I’ll look out for your son. I’m sure you are too, wherever you are now, but...everything helps, right?”

You step away and carry on walking, trying to cast off the feeling that you’ve just left a cemetery. How awful it must be for Rick to have to walk past that every day on his way to school; no wonder he takes so many skip days.

The trail is longer than you expect it to be; Rick must have to get up at the crack of dawn in order to make it to school on time. Eventually, legs burning and sweat dripping down your face, you break through the trees and see a small house in the distance. To the right of the house is a car; the hood is popped, while tools and spare parts litter the ground around it.

There’s no doubt that this has to be Rick’s place.

You redouble your efforts and make it to the front door in record time. But with the door in front of you, you feel your resolve begin to fray. What are you going to say? What if Rick doesn’t believe you, or he gets angry again? 

It doesn’t matter, you realise, sweeping away your doubts as best you can. None of it matters – Rick is the closest thing you have to a friend, and he’s in trouble.

You knock, rapping on the front door three times in quick succession, committing to your course of action before your doubts can manage to inch their way back in. 

But it’s not Rick that answers. Instead a tall, unkempt man with a groggy expression on his face stands in the doorway, blinking in the sunshine. He’s very clearly hungover, because his breath still reeks of cheap whiskey. 

“What?” he asks sharply. “I don’t want no steak knives or whatever. It’s too damn early.”

“No, Mr. Harris, I...uh, I’m here to see Rick? I’m a friend. From school,” you say, a little pointlessly, but you’re entirely off-balance now. Of course Rick’s dad-slash-uncle is home. How could you not have even considered this?

Mr. Harris snorts, lip curling. “Friend? That boy don’t have friends. Get outta here.”

“No, really sir, I’m here to see Rick. Could you please just let him know I’m here?” Mr. Harris attempts to close the door, but your foot shoots forward into the gap and stops it from closing entirely. “Please, it’s really important that I speak to him.”

“Dumbass kid isn’t even here. He wasn’t here when I got in last night, and he wasn’t here when I got up. Now get off my property, before I break your toes.” He draws back the door to illustrate his point, and you take the hint, removing your foot and taking a few steps back.

“Rick’s right. What an asshole,” you say to yourself as the door slams loudly, shaking the entire house. If you had to live with someone like that, you’d probably be a walking ball of rage as well.

Your sympathy for Rick grows ever larger the more you learn about him. Knowing that he could have had two parents that loved him, instead of one drunken uncle who doesn’t seem to care whether he comes or goes, must be terribly hard to bear.

You turn away from the house, passing the mid-repair car on your way back to the trail. You don’t know much about cars in general, but the tools on the ground are instantly recognizable as the ones that you used to use in shop class, the ones Rick worked at the Open House in exchange for; this must be his pet project, you realise.

You knew he liked fixing cars, but the idea of it had never really lodged in your brain properly. He didn’t talk about it much. With this physical proof in front of you however… The fact gives you a glimmer of hope; Rick’s not just built to destroy. He’s capable of creating, or recreating, as well. 

Maybe you can use that to talk him off his ledge. That is, if you can find him before he does something he’ll regret.

*********

Walking around town until you find Rick seems like a bad idea, but you don’t really have any others. Could he have gone to school this early? It seems far too normal a course of action, especially after what he said last night, but it’s probably the best place to start. You resolve to check out the school to see if he’s there and if not, take to the streets and see if you can find him elsewhere.

That plan proves entirely unnecessary however; as you walk through Blue town towards Blue Valley High, you spot Rick coming out of the Pit Stop of all places. You vaguely recall that it’s under new management; Courtney’s dad, or stepdad or something, is running the place now. What could Rick have wanted in there? Advice on his project, maybe?

“Rick! Hey, wait, Rick!”

You cross the street before he can run away, but he’s definitely still pissed at you from the night before. He hastily shoves something into his pocket, and glares.

“Look, I don’t want to hear it,” he says before you can start. “All I’ve heard the last few days is people trying to tell me what to do, and I’m sick of it.”

“I’m just trying to help, Rick. I don’t want you to do something you’ll wish you hadn’t.”

“I can promise you that I won’t. Like I said to you before, I can do this on my own. I was wrong to even think that I could be your friend; I don’t need friends. And better yet, you don’t need me.

“Whatever happens next isn’t going to be pretty – and you’re just going to get in the way, or get caught in the crossfire. So staying away from me is in your best interest as well as mine.”

“But-”

“No! Just listen to me, for once! _Stay away from me!_ ”

He speeds off across the Pit Stop forecourt without a second glance at you. You want to go after him with all of your soul, but your feet are rooted to the ground. The venom in his voice has pinned you to the spot, the dismissal in his tone sapping your will to move.

“You’re not alone, Rick! Even if you think you are, you’re not. I hope you remember that, when you finally come to your senses!”

Rick turns a corner out of sight, showing no sign that he heard you. Only once he’s gone do you feel your ability to move begin to return. You stumble forward a few steps, but you know that he’ll be long gone by the time you go after him. This is becoming an all-too-familiar pattern.

You hang your head in sadness and sink to the sidewalk, butting yourself up against the wall of the garage. Your chest burns, but you refuse to cry. It’s not worth it. 

You’ve extended the hand of friendship so often, only to have it slapped away...you’re reaching the end of your rope. The pain of rejection is getting too much to bear.

You want to help Rick. You do. But if he doesn’t want to be helped, then how can you keep forcing yourself on him?

A pair of legs fills your field of vision then, and you look up to see a middle-aged man staring down at you, a sad smile on his face and a hand outstretched towards you, offering to help you up.

“Hi. Can’t have you crying outside my building, you’ll scare away all the customers,” he says, almost entirely deadpan, and you can’t help but laugh. The humour manages to push the tears back down your throat, and you wipe your eyes with your free hand as the man pulls you to your feet.

“Sorry, sir. I’m...having a bad morning,” you tell him. Something about the man makes you reluctant to lie to him; he just has a trustworthy face. But you can’t exactly tell him the whole truth.

“You’re Rick’s friend?” he asks. “I’m Pat, by the way. Pat Dugan.” 

You introduce yourself, and then nod. “I think I am, yeah.”

“You don’t seem so sure.” There’s no judgement in his voice; it’s like he’s a psychiatrist, trying to coax answers out of you that you already know, but can’t bring yourself to admit.

“I don’t...think Rick wants to me to be his friend. Or if he wants to be anyone’s friend, to be honest. I keep trying, but...”

Pat runs a hand through his hair, scratching the back of his neck. “Look, Rick’s been through it. Anyone can tell that just by looking at him. But he’s a good kid. Just been dealt more bad hands than any kid your age should ever get.”

“What can I do?” you ask him, feeling the tears threaten to crawl back up and out, your sinuses burning. “I want to help him, but everything I try just makes him mad. I feel like maybe I should...”

“Give up?” Pat guesses, raising an eyebrow.

Admitting it feels like a death sentence on anything between you and Rick, but it’s the truth. “Exactly.”

Pat shakes his head and clasps you on the shoulder. “Don’t. Please. Rick needs as many people as he can get in his corner. I know he’s had it rough, and he’s going to make mistakes, but the best thing you can do is be there for him when he needs you. It might not be today, but he’ll remember you when it counts. And he’ll be grateful to have someone to turn to. All you need to do is be there when he does.”

Your face flashes into a sad smile, just for a second, and you feel a little better. “I’ll try, Mr. Dugan. I’ll try.”

“All I can ask for,” he says, then steps back. “I gotta get back to work, but if you need to talk...I’m here most days.”

“What was Rick here for? Did he want to talk too?”

Pat laughs, but it’s pretty mirthless. “I had something to show him, but I think I might have just made things worse. Sorry about that.”

“I’m sure you were just trying to help, the same way I was.” You stop and correct yourself. “The same way I am.”

Pat nods sagely, as if he knows all about trying to help and being rebuked. “You’re a good kid too. I’ll have to introduce you to my step-daughter, I feel like you’d get along well.”

“Courtney, you mean? We’ve met, kind of.” You glance down at your watch, and realise that once again you’re going to be late. “I better get to school – if I see her, I’ll tell her you said hi.”

He gives you a nod, which you return alongside as strong a smile as you can manage before heading off towards the school.

If Rick wants space, then that’s what you’ll give him. You’ve tried it your way – now it’s time to try it his. Maybe he’ll come find you. Maybe he won’t. But if he does – no, when he does – you’ll be there.

*********

Unsurprisingly, Rick isn’t at school for the rest of the day. And while you look out for Courtney as well, she’s also missing.

Come to think of it, the entire Losers’ Table is empty at lunch; Beth and Yolanda are missing as well. They can’t have all gone somewhere together...could they? The idea of that weird little group working together makes you roll your eyes.

And then you feel a little left out. You’re the other school loser, after all.

But Pat’s words still ring clear in your head. Just be there when you’re needed; you just hope you’ll know when that is. 

That night, you’re the last one awake; your parents have long gone to bed, but you’ve not been able to find sleep yourself. It’s getting late though, so you’re doing a last loop of the house, closing some blinds, taking out the trash, that kind of thing, before you go and lie in bed, hopefully to force all of your worries aside for a while so that you can get some rest.

It’s no wonder that your mind is a blur. This whole Rick business has you spinning. It’s irrational, you think; you’ve only really had maybe one or two conversations with him that didn’t end in a shouting match. But there’s something about him that makes you want to spend time with him, despite everything you’ve already been through.

At first you think it’s some kind of hero complex; he needs saving, and you want to be the one to save him – but that’s not it, you realise. You want him to be able to save himself; he’s endured so much, fallen so far, but you know he has it in him to crawl out of the darkness he’s been trapped in his entire life and become something more.

You know that there’s more to him than the rest of Blue Valley can see, and you just want him to be able to see himself the way you see him. 

And yes, maybe there’s more to it than just wanting to be friends; he’s undeniably hot, in that gruff, bad boy way that all the movies you’ve ever seen have told you is a warning sign, and yet you (like all of the movie protagonists) have fallen for him anyway.

And he has a kind smile, always edged with sadness, as if he’s not quite sure how to be happy and needs someone’s approval, someone to tell him that he’s doing it right.

But thinking about that is still out of the question – you can’t even think about wanting to date him when you’re not even sure if he’ll ever speak to you again.

You realise that you’re standing in the middle of the kitchen, staring out into space as you try and fathom what your feelings are telling you. You’re not getting anywhere; it’s time to go to bed.

All that’s left is to lock the back door. You slip through the kitchen as quietly as you can, but as soon as you place your hand on the doorknob, you have to muffle a gasp.

There’s someone in your backyard, staring at you through the window in the back door. He’s panting hard, and he’s dressed in the most peculiar clothes you’ve ever seen.

It looks like an all-in-one black body suit, with thick boots and gloves lined with red arrowheads. A red belt with a golden hourglass symbol wraps around the middle, and a heavy black-and-yellow cape with a wide hood tops it all off. Across the man’s eyes, which are wincing in pain, is a mask, the same material as the bodysuit.

It’s only when you look closer that you realise he’s leaning heavily on the support beam for your back porch, and he has one arm wrapped around his stomach as if he’s just been punched in the gut.

You reach down and grab the baseball bat that your mom keeps by the back door. If he’s wounded, he might need help, and if he’s faking it, then he’ll get a good smack for scaring you. You open the door with a click, and step outside into the chill night air.

“I don’t know who you are or what you’re playing at, but you’re a little late for Halloween,” you say, trying to sound confident as you raise the bat above your head.

“Wait, please,” the man says, “I know I don’t have any right to ask, not after what I’ve said, how I’ve treated you, but-” He winces again, a short, sharp intact of breath cutting off the end of his sentence. “Please…,” he says when he manages to get his breath back, “...I need your help.” 

He raises his hand towards you, and you think he’s going to use it to block the baseball bat if you swing, but instead he reaches up and throws back the hood of his cape before pulling the mask off as well.

You drop the baseball bat in shock, and it rolls away with a clatter down the steps into your backyard. 

Because standing in front of you, dressed in this ridiculous outfit, is Rick.


	7. Friends - Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set during the events of Stargirl 01x07 - Shiv Part One

“Rick? Is that you?”

It’s a stupid thing to say; without the mask, it’s very obviously Rick. But you can’t wrap your head around it. Why is he here? Why is he wearing this strange costume? Stupid questions feel appropriate, if not downright necessary right now.

“Hey,” he says, and winces again in pain. He readjusts his hand on his ribs, and indicates your back door with his chin. “Can we go inside? I don’t really want to be out here in plain sight while I’m dressed like this.”

“Why are you dressed like that?” you ask him, unable to stop yourself. “Rick, what’s going on?”

“I promise I’ll explain everything – just please, let me in?” 

The look of discomfort on his face is real – he’s definitely hurt, and you can do something about that no matter what else is going on. So you push open the back door and then step towards him.

“Give me your arm,” you say to him. You expect him to resist, to tell you that he can do this all himself, but he lets you throw his arm around your shoulder and take his weight without complaint as you lead him through the door and into a chair at your kitchen table.

“Thank you,” he breathes, and his face contorts again as he tries to get comfortable. “I know this must look insane to you right now.”

“You’re damn right it does. Now, does that bodysuit come off, or do I have to try and work out what’s wrong while you’re dressed like that?”

Rick looks like he has a sarcastic comment prepared, but he stows it when pain lances into him again. Instead he pulls off his gloves and lays them on the table, using his bare fingers to reach under the belt across his middle and draw the top of his costume (or whatever it is) upwards. 

The left side of his body is one big bruise; the centre of it is perfectly round, almost black, with rings of deep beetroot purple and sickening yellow emanating out from it. It looks like he took a baseball to the torso at high speed.

You try to pay attention to the bruise, but the sight of Rick basically shirtless, the flat plane of his stomach, the faint dusting of hair across his chest, is more than a little distracting. Then you hear him grunt in pain once again, and you snap back into first-aider mode.

You fight the urge to ask any more questions and drag your eyes away from his wound, instead yanking the cupboard under the sink open in order to withdraw the family first aid kit and place it on the table. You immediately begin taking stuff out of it – pain relief cream, and some bandages.

“So, you want to tell me what’s going on while I do this?” you ask him, catching his eye for the first time since you got him inside the house.

Rick is looking at you with...something like admiration? Maybe he’s just glad you opted to help him, instead of turning him away. Or...maybe it’s something more than that?

No. Answers first. Feelings...sometime in the future.

He shakes his head, like he can’t understand what’s about to come out of his mouth either. “Okay, well, you’re not going to believe this...”

*********

A short while later, you stand back to admire your handiwork. Rick slides his costume down over the bandages that you’ve wrapped around his middle, and rolls his hips in the chair. He winces a little, but then shoots you a thumbs up.

“That’s a lot better. I’ll be fine in the morning, I just need to sleep off the worst of it.”

You want to question his medical expertise, but decide against it. There are too many other questions spinning through your mind right now; you’re no field medic, but as long as he doesn’t have internal bleeding or anything like that, the bandages should help minimise the pain for now.

“So let me get this straight,” you say instead, pacing around the table as you try to combine all of the puzzle pieces that Rick has given you over the course of your last conversation.

“Your dad was a member of the Justice Society Of America, who were this old-timey group of superheroes.”

Rick nods. “Yeah. He was Hourman.”

“And he, and most of the rest of the JSA, were killed by the Injustice Society Of America, who are basically supervillains.”

“Yep.”

“A team of supervillains who still live and work in Blue Valley. And now you and some other kids have teamed up together to try and stop them, before they pull off whatever nefarious scheme that they’re planning now.”

“That’s the gist of it.” Rick says, looking down at the table and twiddling his thumbs. “My dad designed this hourglass...” He takes off the necklace he’s wearing, and places the solid gold hourglass in the centre of your kitchen table. All of the sand has fallen to the bottom where it sits sadly. 

“It gives me super-strength, and like...super-durability or whatever, for an hour a day. No more than that. And it only works for me, because I share my Dad’s DNA. Which I guess makes me the new Hourman.”

There’s trepidation in his voice, but also...pride. Being able to take on his dad’s legacy must feel amazing, like Rick can share something with his father even though he’s gone.

“And there’s Stargirl, Wildcat, and Doctor Mid-Nite. Plus Stargirl’s...” Rick seems to be searching for the right word, and fails. He shrugs, and says: “...sidekick, I guess. He’s a giant robot. Or he rides in a giant robot. It’s...complicated.”

You try and breeze past that for now. Superheroes and supervillains are one thing, but giant robots might be a bit too far, at least for tonight.

“And you guys went to fight some guy called The Gambler, only to run into...what was it, Sportsmaster and Tigress, instead?”

Rick nods again. “I kinda went in half-cocked. I let my anger get the best of me, and Sportsmaster kicked my ass. If it wasn’t for Co- for Stargirl, I’d have probably died. I was on my way home and my...powers, I guess, wore off.” 

His voice hitches, as if he’s disappointed in himself. There’s also an edge of fear there, as if this was the moment Rick realised that being a superhero isn’t all fun and games. “I lost all the durability that they gave me. My body wasn’t totally healed from the fight, and I couldn’t breathe, and-”

“-and I was the closest person to you, so you basically fell on my back porch,” you finish for him.

Rick stops and looks up, confused. “No. No, Yolanda’s house was closer. But I didn’t even realise that until I got here. Because you were the first person I thought of.”

You busy yourself with putting the first aid kit away while you digest that. 

“I thought you didn’t need any help,” you say to him, with your head under the sink so that he can’t see the hopeful expression on your face. “I thought you could do all this on your own.”

“I...I was wrong,” he says, and you’re more than a little relieved to hear him say it. “I know that now. I still want to make the people that killed my parents pay, but I know I can’t do it on my own. I need Stargirl, and Wildcat, and Doctor Mid-Nite, and...and you. I need you too.”

You turn around slowly to find Rick standing directly behind you. He’s replaced his gloves, but his hood and mask are still missing. He extends a hand and he helps you to your feet. As he does so, you lock eyes. He’s looking at you as if he’s seeing you for the very first time, like he finally realises who you are and what you could be to him, if he only let you.

“I understand if you don’t want anything to do with me,” he says, looking away. “I’m grateful that you patched me up tonight, but if that’s the end of it, then I get it. I know I’m asking a lot, given how I’ve treated you, but-”

You reach up with your free hand, surprising both yourself and Rick as you graze the side of his cheek, turning his head so that he faces you once more. “Whatever you need, I’m here for you. I’ve been telling you from the start, I want to be your friend. And if it means helping you dress up in a weird costume and beat up bad people, then that’s what I’m going to do.”

Rick’s eyes light up, and it’s possibly the happiest you’ve ever seen him. “You really mean that?”

“Absolutely.”

Then his brow furrows again and he looks down at himself. “You really think it’s weird? Don’t tell anyone, but I kinda dig it.”

He releases your hand and poses, hands on his hips, chin raised high, like something out of a comic book. There’s something about the costume, as though it gives Rick some confidence that he hasn’t had before; he does look kind of dashing, although you’re not going to admit that to him just yet.

“Sure thing, _Hourman._ ”

Rick grins again, like a kid in a candy store, and collects his mask from the table. “I better get going. But...I can ask the others if you can meet them, if you want. Maybe tomorrow?”

“Are you going to insult me and make me guess who they are?” You cock your head, waiting for Rick to answer. It’s kind of obvious, now that you think about it. There’s only really a few people that it could be.

“Theirs isn’t exactly my secret to tell,” Rick says, suddenly serious. “It might put them in danger if you know – hell, knowing about me might be dangerous enough. I didn’t even think about-”

“Hey, what’s done is done. And I’m glad you told me.” You’ve got your hand on his shoulder now, and you’re not sure when it got there. “I can take care of myself. I may not be a superhero, but I’m not entirely useless.”

Rick seems to mull that over for a minute, then grins. “Alright, so, what do you say – are you ready to meet some more real life superheroes?”

*********

“And you’re sure everyone’s cool with this?” you ask for the fifteenth time since you and Rick left school together. You’re walking through town in a familiar direction, but you’re trying to be as coy as possible, for Rick’s sake.

You know where you’re going. You know who you’re meeting. But they don’t know that you know, and you don’t want them to know either. It’s all very confusing, but it mostly boils down to you playing dumb for now.

“Yes!” Rick says, also for the fifteenth time. “I ran it past everyone at lunch, and they were...well, not fine, exactly, but they’re dealing.”

“That explains why I didn’t see you on the football field,” you mock-pout, and Rick just raises an eyebrow at you.

“Do you want to meet superheroes, or do you want to have lunch with me?”

“Is it too much to ask to have both?”

Rick gives you a deadpan stare, and then you both have other things on your mind as you turn a corner and see the exact three people you expected to see, sitting on some park benches waiting for you to arrive.

It’s funny; you’d solved this riddle fairly easily – or so you’d thought. But seeing Courtney, Yolanda, and Beth all waiting apprehensively as you walk up to them is kind of surreal.

The whole situation is, really. Superheroes are the stuff of movies and comic books. But there’s no denying what Rick showed you, and you’ve no doubt that he’s telling the truth. He doesn’t lie, not to you. And besides, it’s all far too elaborate not to be true. 

“Uh, hi.” You wave, not sure if you should introduce yourself or something. They all know your name; you’ve sat at the Losers’ Table plenty of times before, even if you haven’t exactly been super social about it. But it’s like you’re meeting them for the first time now, really meeting them, as if this new revelation about who they are has changed them into totally different people.

Courtney’s the first to speak; Beth and Yolanda seem to defer to her, urging her forward with their eyes. “Hey. We meet again.”

“You’re moving a little slower than last time,” you observe, and Courtney’s smile is enormous. You hadn’t even realised how worried you were until you feel the knots that your stomach had tied itself into slowly coming undone. 

“I’m glad you could join us. Well, not join us, join us, but...you know what I mean. I’m bad at this!” Courtney says uneasy laughter in her voice. “I mean, maybe you could join us? I don’t know if that’s what you were looking for, or-”

You raise your hands in surrender immediately. “Oh no, I’m good. I’m just here for...moral support, or something.”

“It’s my fault,” Rick says, stepping forward. “I didn’t feel right, keeping a friend in the dark. But we can trust them. I know we can.”

Your heart trills at the sound of Rick calling you his friend, but you try to maintain composure. You don’t want to embarrass yourself already.

Yolanda and Beth step forward as well, and they seem to be sizing you up in their own way. 

“If Rick says we can trust you, then I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. You’ve always been nice to me in the past,” Beth says, giving you a sheepish smile. 

Yolanda looks a little more sceptical, but after a moment she squints at you and adds: “For now. Trial period. I don’t think the JSA needs a cheerleader or whatever, but we definitely need all the help we can get.”

“I won’t let you down,” you say to them all, stepping back so that you can include Rick in your field of vision. “I swear, I’m not trying to cause trouble or anything. I just want to help, any way I can. When Ri- I mean, Hourman, turned up on my doorstep, I didn’t know what to think. But when he told me what you guys were doing, what the...the bad guys are up to? I couldn’t just sit still, knowing that.”

Courtney, Rick, Beth, and Yolanda all share a look of understanding, like they know exactly where you’re coming from. That bolsters your confidence, and you even feel yourself begin to smile.

“Your secrets are safe with me, I promise you that. Besides, I don’t really have much in the way of friends. Who would I even tell?”

You mean it to come off as blasé, like you don’t mind being on your own, but it feels more sad, even to your own ears. Courtney immediately perks up.

“Well, you do now. Sharing a secret like this is a pretty good way to start a friendship, don’t you think?”

You glance around at the group, and you realise that Courtney is right; this feels like the start of something, something truly special. 

Beth is giving you the most encouraging smile she can manage, eyes enormously wide. Yolanda’s mouth is quirked up in an appraising look, but she seems to like what she sees. Courtney wears all of her emotions on her sleeve, and her face is beaming.

And over their heads, Rick flares his eyebrows at you, just once, as if to say ‘Well, you’re in the thick of it now. I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into.’

You don’t, not really. But you can tell that this is where you’re supposed to be. You’ve never really belonged anywhere before, mostly just floated through life while trying not to cause any ripples. 

This though? Standing here with the four of them? This feels right. This feels perfect.

*********

Unfortunately, that perfect feeling doesn’t last long. You tag along with the group to the Pit Stop, Pat Dugan’s auto-repair shop, and observe their first ‘training session’ as a team. Which could have gone better, if you’re being honest.

Courtney’s overzealous; you know from your brief conversations on the way over here that she’s been doing this a little longer than the others, but she seems to think that that gives her an advantage, when really the whole idea (as far as you can gather) was for she and the others to learn how to work together.

Which is kind of hard to do when your de-facto team leader steps up on her own and wrecks all the training dummies in one go.

The mood in the garage is gloomy as everyone begins to file away, leaving Courtney standing sadly alone among the remnants of the mock-Injustice Society that Pat had painstakingly created out of cardboard boxes and metal cans.

Beth, Yolanda, and Rick head out. You’re about to follow, but the sight of Courtney looking so dejected is enough to make you pause and you change direction towards her instead, intending to offer words of encouragement.

Pat cuts you off at the pass, however. “Don’t worry about Court; I’ll talk to her,” he says without preamble. “I had a feeling I might be seeing you again, but this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

“Mr. Dugan, I-”

“Pat, please. Mr. Dugan makes me feel older than spending all my time with teenagers already does.”

“Pat, sorry. Well, you said to be there for Rick. I’m guessing you didn’t know that he was already neck-deep in this whole JSA thing at that point.”

“No. No, I did not,” Pat admits.

“But this is what he needs me for. And I can do this for him, for all of them; I can be here, helping out. I promise I’m not going to go running into danger or anything – I’m not a superhero like they are. But now that I know...I want to help.”

As you say the words, you realise just how true they are. When Rick had explained the JSA and the ISA to you before, they had been exciting, but abstract; a concept, rather than something tangible.

Seeing Courtney, Rick, Yolanda, Beth, and Pat working together like this, learning about the villains that they were facing and the horrible things they had done in the past and could do in the future...now it was real. There was no way you could let injustice like that stand, if there was anything you could do about it.

Over Pat’s shoulder, you see Rick turn back to look for you as he leaves the garage. That’s...unexpected, and it makes your heart hitch in your chest. 

Pat follows your eyes, and then nods as if something has clicked into place. “Ah, I see.”

You pull your attention away from Rick. “What? See what?”

“Nothin’. Not my place to say. You’ll figure that one out on your own, I’m sure. But when it comes to all the superheroics...just be careful. I know first hand what it’s like to be the powerless one on the sidelines, looking on while your friends and the people you care about are fighting. It’s a hard life, and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. If you’re sure about this, you have to be absolutely sure. There’s no half-measures when it comes to the ISA.”

His tone of voice is unmistakeable; he knows exactly what he’s talking about. The past weighs down on him like a physical weight around his neck, and you have the strange urge to reach out and hug him. 

“I’m here to help, whatever that means,” you reiterate once again. “I may not have a magic staff-”

“Cosmic staff.”

“-cosmic staff, or claws, or techno-goggles, or a super-science hourglass, but I’m not dumb. I’m good at reading people; not like superheroically good, but it’s something you learn when you’re on the outside all the time.” You’re rambling, but Pat’s smiling kindly anyway. You try to slam the brakes on your train of thought.

“I can be an asset; I don’t have to punch anyone to fight.”

“You forgot ‘giant robot made of cars’, but I’ll let that one slide,” Pat says with a fond look over at the enormous structure in the corner currently covered with an equally as enormous sheet. “Just...I said it before, but it feels even more necessary now; I’m here if you need me.”

“I appreciate that. I promise I’ll remember it.”

Pat gives you a fatherly smile; Courtney’s lucky to have someone who cares so much on her side, you think. Then, you realise, he’s on your side too. You’re all on the same side. You’re part of this now, this big, all-encompassing thing. That might take a while to really sink it as well.

Then Pat reaches out and swats at you with a mechanic’s rag, jolting you back to reality.

“Alright, now get on outta here. I’ve got a step-daughter to deal with. And I think someone’s waiting for you...”


	8. Friends - Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set during the events of Stargirl 01x08 - Shiv Part Two

You take a step outside the Pit Stop and turn towards home, only to find Rick leaning up against the brick wall waiting for you.

“I thought you’d already gone,” you say, kind of redundantly since he obviously hasn’t. “I thought I’d see you tomorrow.”

“You will. But you can see me now as well, if you want. I saw you and Pat having a little heart-to-heart, so I thought I’d give you some privacy. I can go though, if you’re bored with me already.”

“No!” That makes you sound far too eager, so you try again. “No, please. I’m glad you waited. I’m glad about a lot of things today.”

You both begin walking back towards your house; Rick’s is on the way, so you’ve got a good twenty minutes or so before you have to separate again.

“I am, too,” Rick confesses. “It’s nice to have someone who kind of knows me outside of all this. Don’t get me wrong, having the others is great and all, but they only really know me as I am now. Rick Tyler, Hourman. You knew me before that, even if it was only for a little while, when I was just...Rick Harris.”

“You were never _just_ Rick Harris,” you tell him. “Not to me, anyway.” You can feel the blush rising in your cheeks as you say this, but Rick, whether out of courtesy or out of not knowing what to say, says nothing.

“You called me your friend,” you say to him after a few minutes of silent walking. You say it as quietly as you can, as if you’re not sure of what you heard, and saying it too loud might chase the idea away. “I wasn’t sure you wanted that any more.”

“I invited you to my super-secret superhero club. I think that kind of makes us friends,” he says, leaning over and knocking you with his shoulder. It’s a playful gesture, and so out of character for Rick that it takes you aback – in a good way, for a change. Seeing him like this, without the constant tension under the surface...it’s refreshing. You can only imagine how he feels.

“Friends. That’s...good. I’m glad about that, as well.”

“I should hope so; you’ve been trying to be my friend for weeks now. Mission accomplished.”

“You certainly didn’t make it easy,” you tell him. There’s no anger in your voice, but Rick’s face falls regardless.

“Some of the stuff I said...I was so mad. So stupid. I’m really sorry, about all of it. When the anger takes over, I say shit that I really shouldn’t. I never should have said that I didn’t need you. I know I was wrong. I think I knew then, too. But admitting it to myself would have made me feel...weak, I guess.

“I’ve always had to be the strong one. No parents, basically having to raise yourself? It makes you...hard. Letting people in isn’t easy, and I think seeing you try so hard, it caught me off-guard. I didn’t know what to make of it. I thought maybe you were just messing with me? So I tried to push you away, when I should have trusted you enough to open up, instead.

“You had every right to turn me away when I just showed up at your house. I mean, it must have been crazy. This guy who just basically yells at you all the time just appears in the middle of the night, dressed in some crazy outfit, talking about superheroes and supervillains? Totally nuts, right? You could have just told me to take a hike.”

His voice softens, and he can’t seem to catch your eye any more. “But, since we’re talking about things we’re glad about, I’m really glad you didn’t.”

“You never have to feel weak with me, or like you can’t be yourself.” You edge closer, your voice barely above a whisper. “I like you, Rick Tyler. For who you are.”

You reach out and take his hand. You’re not sure what possesses you to, but you do it. To both your surprise and his, Rick doesn’t pull away.

You both stand there, hands together for about a minute or so. Neither of you speaks. Neither of you knows what to say. Rick’s hand is kind of limp in yours, as if he’s not quite sure what he’s meant to do in this situation.

Unfortunately your embarrassment has other ideas about this tender moment, and ensures that you’re the first one to pull away. Rick’s hand drops to his side, and his fingers twitch, just a little, like they’re sad to lose contact with you.

“Guess I’ll need a new mission now that I’m your friend,” you say as airily as you can. You and your brain are going to have stern words about what’s appropriate to say and when, one of these days.

Rick doesn’t say anything to that, but he’s smiling, which you take as a good sign. Even with the abysmal training session, his mood is lighter than you’ve ever seen it. He doesn’t comment on the hand-holding, or anything like that, as you continue to walk. It’s surprisingly not awkward.

You search around for a new topic, trying to move Rick away from superheroics and deep conversations about feelings, back towards something a bit more normal. 

Your brain however is acting as an independent entity once more and, before you can stop it, your mouth is asking: “Are you going to the football game this weekend?” 

Rick makes a dismissive noise. “Are you insane? Not a chance. I like eating my lunch out there, but I’m not about to waste my free time watching idiots like Henry and Artemis knocking skulls together. Especially now that I can do it myself.” He pounds his fist into his open palm to illustrate his point.

“Oh, alright. Never mind, then.” You feel like one of the ISA dummies that Courtney attacked, like someone has sliced away your legs from under you and it’s all you can do not to fall over. You’ve pushed too hard, too fast, and without thinking it through – you might have told Pat that you can read people, but reading yourself is probably something you should work on.

Rick seems understandably confused, like he’s missed the punchline to a particularly funny joke and he’s not sure if he was the butt of it or not. “Were you going to go?”

“I wasn’t, but if you were, I thought we could go together. But you’re right, it was a bad idea. Waste of time.” You’re trying to play it cool, to keep things light, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t disappointed. So far all the time you’ve spent with Rick has been either trying to break down his walls, or watching him be a superhero; it’d be nice to spend some more time with him, just doing normal...friend stuff.

“What about the dance?” he asks suddenly. You’re not sure if he picked up on your change in mood, or if he was going to ask this anyway – it’s too hard to read his emotions while you’re grappling with your own.

“What about it?” There’s a glimmer of hope there, like an ember at the bottom of a fireplace that you’re scared to try and fan into a flame.

“We could go to that, if you wanted. I know it’s cliché and all that, but it might be...y’know, fun, or something. We can hang out in the corner and judge everyone.”

You almost can’t believe what you’ve heard. “...You want to go to the dance with me?” 

“Sure,” Rick says with a shrug. “We can go together. If you want to, I mean. As friends.”

You feel impossibly selfish all of a sudden, and then a wave of shame splashes over you; you’ve fought so hard to get to this point, to try and understand Rick, to help him to try and understand himself. This was what you wanted, wasn’t it? To be his friend? So why now are these stupid feelings flaring up, as if you’re allergic to the friendship you’ve fought so hard for? Is it because you’re really looking for something deeper than that?

Friends was a hard enough struggle to achieve. Surely wanting more is just tempting fate? You should just enjoy what you have – pushing it further might break the already fragile foundations that you’ve built.

There’s nothing wrong with just friends. Hell, you’ve never had enough friends to be ‘just friends’ with. And neither has Rick, you realise. He needs this just as much as you do, if not more. 

You turn to him and flash the most genuine smile you can manage. You’re not surprised to find that it’s not entirely sincere, but it’s definitely not as fake as you’d anticipated.

“Sure. I’d like that. Friends.”

*********

You’re about thirty seconds away from falling asleep that night when your phone buzzes. You’d hoped that, with the Rick drama and the JSA secret exposed, you might have been able to get at least a solid six hours, but that is apparently not to be.  
Your phone buzzes again, more insistent this time, and you reluctantly roll over and grab it from your bedside table. Texts from Yolanda, Beth, and Rick are plastered over your home screen.

 _“Pit Stop, now! Courtney’s in trouble!”_ from Beth.

_“Meet @ Pat’s, big problem.”_ reads Yolanda’s.

And Rick’s just says: _“We need you. Come quick.”_

You’re out of bed, dressed, and out the door faster than you’ve ever moved before, flying through the streets of Blue Valley as if someone has lit a fire under your ass. You skid across the Pit Stop forecourt and under the slightly raised shutter just in time to see Rick swipe a load of Pat’s tools off of a workbench and across the floor with a hail of bangs.

“What the hell are we doing just standing here? Cindy Burman sent Courtney to the emergency room tonight! She tried to kill her!”

“Wait, _what?_ ” you ask, making your way towards the group. Beth smiles a tight smile as you join them, and she whispers quickly to you to help catch you up.

“Courtney was following Principal Bowin after the football game, and she got attacked. It was Cindy, in some weird green armour with a stick that shoots fire. Courtney’s okay, but she’s in the hospital. Pat’s with her now.”

“Oh my god. I knew she was a bitch, but I didn’t think she was a supervillain!” you hiss back at Beth, who just shrugs.

Yolanda brings you both back to the topic at hand. “So, what should we do?”

Rick of course has a plan. “We break Cindy Burman's door down, and we take the bitch out!” Somehow, you knew he was going to say that.

Beth cuts him off before you’re able to. “No! Cindy has powers!” 

“So do we!” Rick counters. 

“Cindy Burman having powers means that her dad or her mom could be part of the Injustice Society.” Beth is surprisingly calm in the face of Rick’s anger. You’ll have to ask her how she manages that. 

“Great, let's hope so.” Rick’s eagerness isn’t surprising; but it’s dangerous. Rushing in isn’t going to help anyone.

“Hey, we have no idea what we'd be walking into, or who we'd be up against. There's a smarter approach to this,” Beth insists. You agree, but you’re content just to listen for now – this is a discussion for the people with the actual superpowers. 

“An eye for an eye is how it works.” 

“An eye for an eye and the whole world goes blind,” you say under your breath. Somehow you think that that likely won’t be what Rick wants to hear right now.

Beth steps up again, the voice of reason to counter Rick’s more decisive approach. “Listen, Rick, I'm mad too. But you just need to sit down and cool off.” 

“Or what? What are you gonna do? Stare at me?” Rick squares up to Beth, who’s about a whole foot shorter than he is. You don’t think he’d actually hurt her, but it’s an intimidating visual nonetheless.

Beth takes a moment before she replies, her voice low and even. “You hurt so much you wanna hurt everyone else. Is that it, Rick?”

Rick’s jaw clenches, like Beth has just shoved a knife through the chink in his armour, and backs down. He turns and punches the workbench, but it’s only regular-strength instead of super-strength, so the result is just a loud noise.

“I care about Courtney, about all of you,” she says, looking from Rick, to Yolanda, to you. “About everyone in Blue Valley. But we should be trying to figure out who Cindy's parents are before we act.” 

Yolanda looks between the two of them before stepping to Beth’s side. “I think Beth's right, Rick.” 

He looks to you, and you meet his eyes. He already knows what you think. You don’t have to say it. If he’s disappointed, he doesn’t show it, only inclines his head towards Beth, who has pulled out her Doctor Mid-Nite goggles. 

“Okay. So, what do you wanna do?” 

“I've got a plan,” she announces. “A good one.”

*********

You’re all going your separate ways for the night; there’s nothing else you can do for Courtney, or about Cindy, until tomorrow. Being helpless isn’t a great feeling; so much for that comfortable night’s sleep.

“Before you all go, I just wanted to say something, if that’s okay.” Your voice feels loud and imposing, echoing around the empty Pit Stop like a bottomless cavern. Rick, Beth, and Yolanda stop and look at you expectantly.

“I just wanted to say thank you...for texting me, I mean. I know I’m, like, the newcomer, or whatever, the powerless one on the outside, but I’m glad you included me. I care about Courtney, and about you guys, too.”

“We’re friends now – when one of us calls up in the middle of the night, we all go,” Beth replies with a smile.

“I’ll meet you outside,” Rick says roughly as he heads past you. “I need some air.”

You watch him go, and Yolanda follows soon after. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow. Gotta rest up for our big mission.”

You turn back to pick up your bag, to find Beth still smiling in your direction.

“I wanted to thank you too, actually,” she says. You’re getting used to her matter-of-fact way of speaking very quickly now that you’re being exposed to it more often, how she just launches into conversations without waiting, like she’s scared you’ll run off before she has a chance to say what she has to say. It’s a little sad, thinking about why she feels like she has to talk that way.

“For sticking up for me, I mean. I know there’s something going on with you and Rick, so you could have gone with his plan, but I’m glad you think we should take the cautious approach too.”

You instantly feel your face burn red, and shake your head so many times you can feel your eyes rolling around like pinballs. “There’s nothing happening between me and Rick, I don’t know what you mean!”

Beth looks at you with an expression that clearly says she doesn’t believe you, but she lets it go without further comment. “It’s hard, you know?” she says instead. “Being the one without any powers. I mean, I have Chuck, but it’s not the same. He’s great, but he’s not very...offensive.”

“Preaching to the choir,” you reply. “I’m about as good in a fight as a wet paper bag. We’ve got other strengths, though. Not everything’s about how hard you can punch things.”

“Try telling that to Rick.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I will,” you say with a chuckle before feeling your blush returning with a vengeance. “Speaking of whom, I better go after him. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“You’d better!”

You leave the Pit Stop smiling once again; it’s nice to feel accepted. Being invited into the JSA secret, that had been more Rick’s idea than anything else. But it wasn’t just him that had texted you tonight, it had been Beth and Yolanda too. Maybe...maybe you really did belong, after all.

“Sorry,” Rick says, falling into step beside you for the second time in less than twelve hours. “I feel like I’m saying that a lot lately.”

“You’re evolving. It’s a good thing.”

Rick looks at you, bemused. “Anyway, smart-ass. I know I lost my cool again. It’s gunna happen, I told you that. But it doesn’t make it any better when it does.”

“Hey, I’m mad too!” you tell him. “Do you think I like the idea of Cindy beating up our friend? I definitely do not. But Beth was right – going in half-cocked won’t help. We’d probably get ourselves beaten up ourselves, if not captured, or worse.

“Despite what you might think, anger isn’t all bad; anger means that you care. But maybe you could try and use that anger in the right way, focusing it on the right things, instead of just letting it control you?”

Rick mulls that over for a minute; you can see his eyebrows moving as he works through the idea. “I hate it when you’re right,” he says finally. “Something else to work on.”

“Hey. You’re doing good. Don’t put yourself down. Breaking habits isn’t easy.”

“It helps when I have someone like you looking out for me,” he admits. 

You’re glad it’s dark out now; there’s little chance of Rick realising that you’re blushing yet again.

*********

In retrospect, maybe Beth’s plan isn’t quite as good as she thought. Now she and Pat are knee deep in enemy territory, trapped in Cindy Burman’s house, and it’s taking all of your self-control to stop yourself (as well as Rick and Yolanda) from following Rick’s original plan of running across the street and kicking down the door.

“We have to trust Beth,” you say. “She can do this. We’re just here in case something goes wrong. Which it won’t. This’ll all be fine.”

“Are you trying to tell us that, or yourself?” Yolanda asks, with a look at Rick, whose eyes haven’t left Cindy’s front door since Beth and Pat disappeared inside.

“Can it be both?” you admit.

And that’s when everything goes terribly wrong. In quick succession, Beth’s JSA comms cut out, and Courtney sends a text to Yolanda with the worst news possible – Cindy knows Courtney’s secret identity.

“Beth has to get out of there right now – Cindy could be home any second!” you cry, only for a very familiar black car to pull up in front of the house. Cindy steps out, and the three of you dip behind the bushes once again.

“Beth! Cindy’s home, and she knows Courtney is Stargirl!” Yolanda hisses through the JSA comms. 

Miraculously, Beth’s voice comes back – she must have gotten back in range, or something. “I’m going upstairs!”

“We don’t have time for this – if Cindy catches Beth in there...” you begin, not able to find the words to fill in the blanks. If Cindy is even half as dangerous as Courtney says she is, then Beth won’t stand a chance against her. She’s like you – the non-combatant; Cindy would demolish her in seconds.

“Beth, it’s time to go! Cindy’s at the front door!” Yolanda insists. You have to do something! Beth is running out of time!

Yolanda turns to you and Rick, eyes dark with worry. “What are we going to do?”

Rick glances quickly at you, and then fixes Yolanda with a stare; you know there’s only one course of action left – you have to get Beth out of there, one way or another. 

You see a shape pass by the upper left window of the house as you’re busy fretting, and a plan begins to form in your mind.

“Alright, guys. I have an idea. Do you trust me?”

“Of course,” Rick says without hesitation as he drops his hourglass necklace over his head.

“Not like either of us have any ideas!” Yolanda says, swiftly donning her Wildcat costume. It’s the first time you’ve seen her in it; it’s pretty damn impressive. Those claws look wicked dangerous. And that’s all part of your plan.

“Alright, here’s what we’re going to do...”

*********

It only takes a few minutes to organise your friends, but every second is precious. Cindy could go up to her room at any moment, and Beth is toast if she’s still there when Cindy arrives.

Yolanda, or Wildcat now, you guess, scales the wall outside Cindy’s house with ease, while you stand with your head on a constant swivel, looking out for anyone coming down the street. Rick positions himself directly under the window, arms outstretched like he’s holding an invisible barrel.

“I’m in position!” Yolanda says, and begins tapping on the window pane. Almost right away, Beth opens the window and stares at her with a look of disbelief.

“Rick, now!” you call, just as Yolanda grabs Beth around the collar and topples her end-over-end out of the window and down to street level – directly into Rick’s waiting arms.

“Got ya,” he says with a grin, and then the three of you are out of there, high-tailing it across the street as quickly as you can. Yolanda waits for a moment, clambering onto the roof as Cindy pokes her head out of her window, eyebrows knitted together with suspicion; thankfully, she doesn’t see the Wildcat-shaped shadow a few feet above her. As soon as the coast is clear Yolanda joins the three of you, followed shortly by Pat emerging out of the front of the house.

“C’mon, let’s get outta here – let’s go, let’s go!” he shouts, corralling you all back towards his van. You pile inside, and it’s only when you’re seated beside Rick that you stop to take stock.

Your heart is pounding like you’ve been running for miles. The last of the adrenaline in your system is draining away, and there’s a wild smile on your face. Pat is berating you all from the front seat, but you can’t seem to focus on his words. You’re pretty sure ‘reckless’ and ‘irresponsible’ are in there somewhere.

This was...exhilarating. Even though you weren’t in the thick of it, the sense of achievement, that you’re doing something worth doing, is impossible to deny. And the fact that you’re doing it with people you care about, people who care about you, makes it even more amazing.

“That was awesome,” you whisper to Rick, who smiles despite himself. 

“It kinda was, wasn’t it? I mean, it was stupid dangerous, and Beth could have gotten killed, but...yeah. Kinda awesome.”

“You make a pretty good team,” you point out. “Beth’s sweet-talking, Yolanda’s climbing, your super-strength. It all worked together really well.”

“And your idea – I don’t know if we would have thought of that without you. I was going to get just rush in and punch Cindy in the face, if we’re being honest.”

“That would have been a sight to see, but I don’t think that would have ended well for any of us.” You get an image of Cindy’s annoyed face as she sees her front door fly across her living room in your head, and you laugh at the very idea.

You look around the truck; Yolanda is peeling off her Wildcat suit, trying to manoeuvre her body around the seatbelt without slicing any of Pat’s upholstery with her claws. Beth is in deep conversation with Chuck and Pat about the photo of Cindy’s dad that she stole. Rick’s now staring out the window, one hand tangling and untangling the chain of his hourglass.

And back at home, Courtney’s on the mend. Soon you’ll all be up to full strength, ready for whatever comes next. You marvel at how strongly you feel for them all, even after only a few days of knowing most of them. The protectiveness you feel, and the camaraderie, is both new and familiar all at once.

Trying to take down a team of supervillains isn’t something you can go through without becoming friends, you guess. 

Then there’s a sudden warmth in your hand, and you look down to find Rick’s fingers waffled between yours. He’s not looking at you, pointedly looking out the window instead, but it’s a very deliberate gesture – it’s not like his fingers could have slipped and fallen into the gaps between yours. And he’s not pulling them away either.

You flex your fingers, a small smile playing about your lips as Rick continues to ignore the contact that, this time, he initiated. He doesn’t realise that you can see his own smile reflected back in the truck window.

This feels different to the last time; before it was to try and comfort Rick, to make him feel like he was more than he thought he was, and he wasn’t sure what to do with it. This is nothing like that. This is a mutual gesture, one that you’re both engaged in. Last time, you were holding his hand; now, you’re both holding each other’s.

Maybe trying to take down a team of supervillains can make you something more than friends, too.


	9. Follow Your Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set during the events of Stargirl 01x09 - Brainwave

The door of the school gym slams shut with a resounding bang, the exclamation mark to Yolanda’s proclamation that she would refuse to be on any team that included Henry.

“Pretty clear where she stands on the matter then,” Courtney says. She’s standing unsteadily, one hand gripping the opposite elbow; it’s the most unsure you’ve ever seen her, and it’s a little unnerving – she seemed less shaken by her fights with Cindy Burman than she does now.

Her latest idea though, has divided the team in two. An encounter with Henry during her second battle with Cindy led Courtney to discover that Henry has powers of his own when he unleashed some kind of psychic blast. It’s clear that he truly is his father’s son, and now she wants to recruit him into the JSA, which is a...controversial opinion, to put it lightly.

“I think it’s pretty clear where we all stand,” Rick says. “Yolanda’s against it. So am I. You and Beth are insane if you think working with a jerk like Henry is a good idea.”

“And me? Do I get a say?” you ask quietly. You’ve been sitting on one of the disused weight benches for the entire conversation, watching silently while Courtney raised her suggestion. 

Yolanda being against it isn’t surprising, given what he did to her (although you still have reservations about that). Same with Rick – he’s never liked Henry anyway. Beth being for it is also not a surprise; she just wants everyone to get along. If this was a democracy, you’d be the deciding vote.

“Of course you do,” Courtney says, almost grateful to turn away from Rick’s accusatory eyes for a moment. “You’re part of the team as much as any of us. What do you think?”

You can feel Rick’s eyes on you now; he already knows what you’re going to say – he knows your feelings about Henry, they’re well documented. Still, for the first time since you’ve started to get to know him, it feels like he’s judging you.

“I think,” you say, as carefully as you can, “that it’s worth trying. From what you said, he seems confused. If he’s only just gotten these powers, then he’s probably scared, too. I’m sure he could use some friends right now.”

Rick rolls his eyes, then throws up his hands in exasperation. “Of course. Here we go again. ‘Henry’s just misunderstood, he’s a nice guy, really’. Do you actually believe that? Have you even met the guy?”

“I have, yeah,” you say, rising to your feet. “I’ve spoken to him before. I’ve seen him in the halls. I think you forget just how much I see sometimes. It’s not too hard to see that he’s not who everyone thinks he is, if you take the time to look. I’d have thought maybe you’d be a bit more compassionate about people judging you before they get to know you, Rick.”

He opens his mouth to retort, but it dies in his throat; he knows you’re right.

“And he’s in pain. I think we owe it to him to try and help, if we can. And if it gets us a new ally in the process, then surely that’s good? If he’s even half as powerful as his dad, that’d be a real asset, right Court?”

Courtney nods, but she’s biting her lip as she looks between you and Rick, not used to the friction in the group. “Brainwave was crazy strong. If Henry has all of his dad’s powers, then he could be what tips the scales in our fight with the ISA.”

“I’m going on record right now,” Rick says, fixing Courtney with another hard glare, “that this is a terrible idea. It’s not going to end the way you want it to.”

Courtney turns then, to the last person you expected her to – you. Over her shoulder, you see Rick’s brow furrow with confusion and worry in equal measure. “Actually, I was wondering if you’d come with me? You say you’ve spoken to Henry before – do you think you might be able to get through to him?”

“Now wait just a second-” Rick begins, but you cut across him.

“I can try. I want to try.”

“You can come with me to the hospital then. We can check in on Brainwave, and maybe Henry will be there too.”

Rick can’t contain himself any longer. You can see the familiar fists balled as his side, his dark eyes wide with anger as he finally lets loose. “Are you _insane?_ Believing in him is one thing, but now you want to be the one to confront him as well? Courtney going on her own is bad enough, but now you?”

“I have to try, Rick. I might not be able to do much to help you guys, but I can do this.” You try and pull off a patented Beth Chapel move – you keep your voice low and even, not giving any ground, and not letting Rick see that his anger is flustering you.

“You just want to help everyone, is that it? Isn’t seeing the good in everyone enough? You don’t have to try and bring it out of them as well. Some people aren’t worth the effort.”

You cross the room then, squaring up with Rick. To Courtney and Beth it probably looks like you’re going to throw hands, but what you have to say next is for Rick’s ears only so you want to be as close as possible to ensure only he hears.

“Some people aren’t worth the effort? Some people aren’t worth saving?” you echo. Rick’s holding his breath, his jaw working as he fights to contain his anger. “If I believed that, do you think I would have tried so hard with you?”

Rick looks as if you’ve just slapped him across the face. He blinks rapidly, like he’s trying to stop himself from tearing up, and he takes a few steps back. 

“You were worth saving. So is Henry. Please, let me try.”

“I just...” Rick’s voice comes out like a croak; his emotions are a hand around his throat, and he’s fighting for every word. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I know. I’m scared, too. But this is what heroes do, right? Save the people that need saving? We don’t get to pick and choose who that is.”

Rick nods roughly, looking away. He rubs his forehead with the palm of his hand, trying to surreptitiously wipe his eyes at the same time.

“I’ll be careful. Henry won’t hurt us. You’ll see. This is the right thing to do.”

“I still don’t like it. But I won’t try and stop you,” he says, finally looking back up. “Just...stay safe. Stay with Court.”

You look back at Courtney, who flashes you a small smile and an even smaller thumbs-up. Beth is behind her, looking extremely awkward, but she doesn’t say anything for the first time in her life.

“We’ll be alright,” you promise Rick. You want to go to him, to hold him, to offer as much reassure as he needs. But now is not the time for that. There’s another boy who needs you, so this one will just have to wait his turn.

*********

“That was really brave,” Courtney says as you walk through the halls of Blue Valley Medical Center. “Standing up to Rick, I mean.”

You wave her off. “I wouldn’t call it standing up to him. He just has trouble seeing through the fog sometimes. He’ll come around.”

“Is there...something going on between you two?” she asks, trying to sound nonchalant and failing. “Like...more than friends?”

It’s a good question, infinitely more so than the last time someone asked it of you. It’s a question that you don’t really have an answer to. After the hand-holding, and the invitation to the dance, it makes you think there might be. But other than that...it’s all still too new to put a label on. You shake your head. “Maybe? I’m not sure yet. Can I get back to you?”

“Sure,” she says with a smile. “If there was though, it’d be nice. I approve.”

You feel the blush rising in your cheeks like an old friend at this point, and turn the tables on Courtney in order to get away from the subject of your love life. “What about you and Cameron? I heard he asked you to the dance?”

Courtney tilts her head forward, her hair falling around her face to hide her from view. “He did. I said yes. I don’t know if that means anything either. Especially with his dad being…” She looks around the corridor, but there’s no one within earshot. “...Icicle, and all. So, can I go with maybe as well?”

You suppress a chuckle. “Between the two of us, we might have about half a boyfriend. We have no idea what we’re doing, do we?” 

Courtney shakes her head with a resigned look. “Boys are confusing.”

You nod sagely in agreement. “Cameron is cute though...”

“Quit it!” Courtney giggles. “He’s just a guy. I have bigger things to worry about right now, we both do!”

“If we can’t find a little happiness in all this darkness, is it even worth fighting?” you muse, tapping your chin exaggeratedly. 

Courtney rolls her eyes. “Oh, boy. You sound like a Hallmark movie.”

As you round a corner, you see a familiar head of red hair through an open doorway a few feet ahead of you. Your demeanour instantly changes, back to business, and you wave at Courtney, pointing. “You were right – Henry’s here with his dad.”

Court takes a deep breath, squaring her shoulders like she’s psyching herself up. “Okay, I’m going to go in first. Do you mind waiting out here for now? I don’t want him to think we’re ganging up on him.”

“Sure,” you nod. “I’ll be just outside.”

Courtney disappears into Henry King Sr.’s room, closing the door behind her with a click. 

You listen as best you can to their conversation, running the gauntlet of emotions as you hear of Henry’s struggles with his powers, and with his dad, as well as Courtney’s arguments in return, about how everything truly comes down to love at the end of the day.

The conversation seems to be going in her favour, at least to start, but it soon becomes clear that Henry isn’t about to give in just yet. The door opens, and Courtney exits. She doesn’t look sad however, just a little disappointed. 

“I tried. I think I got through to him, maybe just a little. Your turn?”

You take a deep breath and slip past Courtney into Henry Sr.’s room. As you pass her, you give her a determined nod. “My turn.”

*********

Henry is leaning on the guard-rail that rings his father’s hospital bed; Brainwave looks almost peaceful while he’s unconscious, that immensely powerful mind at rest.

You’re acutely aware of how dangerous this is; you’re now in a confined space with Henry, who could probably fry your brain in a second if he wanted to. 

“I won’t,” Henry says, without turning around. “Not unless you give me a reason to.”

“You can hear my thoughts?” you ask him, already knowing the answer. 

He nods, twisting his head in profile to look at you over his shoulder. “It’s easier, when there’s only one person to focus on. Out there...” he motions outside the window to the rest of the hospital beyond, “it’s like being in the middle of a crowd, even when no one’s talking. It’s...overwhelming.”

“I can only imagine. If you can see into my head, then you know why I’m here, right?” For once in your life, you hope your brain decides to stay under your control and not blurt out random things you wish it wouldn’t. You try and put your inner monologue on pause, so that you can focus on Henry and to ensure that he won’t get distracted by your thoughts.

Henry shakes his head, his face twisting into a grimace. “I just get impressions, like surface thoughts, unless I concentrate. I can, if you want. Or you can just tell me. But if you’re just going to say the same things that Courtney said, then I’m not interested, and you can just go.”

You step into the room proper, and Henry turns to face you too, leaning his back onto the guard-rail instead of his hands.

“So, you’re mixed up in all this too?” he asks, waving his hands as if to encapsulate the entirety of the JSA/ISA conflict in one movement. “What do they call you?”

“I don’t have a costume, or a codename, or anything. I’m just...here to help, however I can.”

Henry sneers. “You want to help me? You think you can?”

“I don’t know,” you say truthfully. “But I’m willing to try.”

Henry seems to consider you for a moment. Maybe he’s reading your thoughts, maybe not. It’s not as if you can feel it when he does. But he seems to come to a decision somehow, and for the second time, you see his walls come down.

“These powers...they’re insane. My dad...he did such terrible things with them. He killed people. Courtney said he and the ISA, they killed her dad.”

You’re no mind reader, but the fear on Henry’s face, the way he’s hunched at the shoulders like he wants to just disappear, is enough to tell you all you need to know. 

“You’re not your father, Henry. You may have his powers, but that doesn’t mean you have to be like him. He may have made you this way, but you don’t have to be who he is. You don’t owe him that. You don’t owe him anything.”

Henry’s face slackens, like he’s relaxing somewhat. Or he’s given up trying to control his feelings. He stares up at the ceiling and sighs heavily. “I just...I don’t know what to do. I don’t know who to trust, or what to think. It’s funny, isn’t it? I can read everyone else’s thoughts, but I can’t read my own.”

“This is going to sound corny,” you warn him, “but if you can’t follow your head, then follow your heart. Your heart will tell you what the right thing to do is, even when your head can’t. Trust me, I can tell you from experience; my heart’s what got me mixed up in all this to start with.” 

Henry cocks his head to once side at that, and the space between his eyebrows creases just slightly for a moment.

“You and Harris? Or Tyler, I guess?” he says after a second. “I never would have guessed.”

“That’s not...I don’t know what that is yet. But it might be something, yeah. I hope it will be, anyway.” You couldn’t admit that to Beth, or to Courtney. But somehow, with Henry, it’s easier. Maybe because he already knows.

“It’d be nice to have someone like that,” he says sadly. “Something. Anything. Turns out my girlfriend’s only been dating me to keep an eye on me for the ISA.”

“God, every time I think Cindy has reached the lowest she can go, she finds some way to fall even further,” you say without thinking.

“I wonder if she even liked me,” Henry says. “I’m sure she didn’t love me.”

“I like you, Henry,” you say to him. “The real you, I mean. The one that you seem so hell-bent on hiding from the rest of the world. This you.”

“I don’t even know who I am any more,” he admits. The pained look on his face has returned, but this looks more like inner turmoil than struggling to contain his powers. “I’ve spent so long keeping up appearances – how do I know I’m not the dumb jock I pretend to be? If you pretend long enough, does it make it real?”

“I can’t tell you who you are. But I can tell you that there are people who want to help you – who can help you find out who the real you is. But that’s a decision you have to make for yourself.”

Henry looks back at his father, still silent and unmoving. “I...I have a lot to think about. But thank you. For saying that. For meaning it.”

“I’ve learned recently that everyone needs friends. And that includes you. We’re here, if you need us.”

Henry turns away from you; the conversation is over. You exit the room, leaving the door open behind you – a pathway out of the darkness and into the light, if Henry chooses to take it.

You hope he does. You truly hope he does.

*********

_“Save me. Beth keeps talking to Chuck, but I can only hear one side of the conversation so it’s like she’s talking to herself, and I can’t read one more book about underground tunnels or I’m going to power up and tear them all in half.”_

The text makes you smile despite yourself, your earlier argument with Rick momentarily forgotten. It’s early evening now, and you’re walking back from the hospital towards home. But it appears that a pit stop at the Pit Stop is in order.

Not that you’d admit it to him, but you’re glad to hear from Rick. You weren’t happy with how the pair of you left off earlier, and this text is kind of like an olive branch.

 _“I thought you were the superhero? Don’t you do the saving?”_ You text back.  
_“You’ve been doing a better job than me today.”_

Ducking under the metal grating, you head into the back area of the Pit Stop; Pat’s S.T.R.I.P.E robot is proudly on display, always awe-inspiring no matter how many times you see it. The fact that he built such an impressive machine with his bare hands is a testament to Pat’s mechanical prowess. 

Rick and Beth are sat on one of the squashy sofas, surrounded by textbooks, none of which look like they were written in this century.

Beth brightens at your appearance, tossing aside the book she has been concentrating on in favour of greeting you. “Oh hey! How did it go?”

“With Henry?” You cast a quick glance at Rick, but he doesn’t seem to respond to Henry’s name at all. He hasn’t even looked up since you arrived. “I think we got through to him, maybe just a little. Between Court and me, I hope he heard something of what we had to say.”

“I’m sure you gave it your best shot; that’s the main thing. We’ve extended the hand of friendship, so now we just have to wait and see if Henry takes it.” 

“What about you guys? Find anything?”

“There’s definitely a system of tunnels under the town. As for possible entrances and such...we’re still not sure. Other than the one at the school, and the one in Cindy’s house, of course. But it’s almost certain that that’s where the ISA are holed up. Or working out of, at the very least.”

“Nice work. That’s definitely a good start.”

Rick is quiet. He has his nose shoved into his dad’s journal, but you can tell he isn’t reading it – his pupils haven’t moved since you arrived. He’s either ignoring you, or waiting for his moment.

You look at Beth, and then indicate Rick with your eyebrows. She looks puzzled for a second, before realising what you’re trying to silently communicate to her.

“Oh! Right! I better get out of here. School tomorrow and all that. Bye guys!”

Rick mumbles a low goodbye, and you smile as Beth walks by you, shoving her Doctor Mid-Nite goggles into her bag. You give her a grateful smile as she passes, and she winks conspiratorially. You fight the urge to swat at her, and she waves as she ducks under the grating and leaves the building.

You turn to Rick, who is still studiously ignoring you. You cross the room until you’re standing right in front of him, but that doesn’t elicit any movement from him either. 

You flop down onto the sofa next to him. Only then does he look at you, his eyes flicking up from the page he’s ‘reading’. He remains entirely still otherwise.

“Hi.”

Rick blinks.

“Hey, that’s your dad’s journal. Were you able find out anything new?”

He blinks again.

“Are you not talking to me? Because your text made it seem like you wanted to talk to me.”

He lifts the diary up in front of his face so that you can’t see him. “I’m trying to think of a new way to say sorry that I haven’t used yet,” he says, his voice muffled from behind the pages. You lean forward and place your hand on the spine of the book, taking it gently from him. He doesn’t resist, his hands falling into his lap and his head falling in...shame?

“Hey. Don’t do that. You don’t have to do that.”

Rick sighs, rolling his neck in an effort to avoid looking at you. “I just keep messing up, and it’s the same way every time. I blow up, and yell at the people I care about. And then I apologise, and you forgive me. And then I do it again, and I apologise, and you forgive me, and it just keeps going. How stupid do I have to be to not learn from my mistakes, and keep making the same one every time? And how many times are you going to stick around before I push it too far, and it becomes one time too many and you decide to walk away instead?”

He says all this in one breath, so by the time he’s finished, his voice is barely audible. 

You sit back for a second, taken by surprise. “I’m not going anywhere, Rick. There’s literally nothing you could do that would make me stop showing up for you and the others. I’d have thought you’d have realised that by now.”

“But-”

“But nothing. We had a difference of opinion. You got mad, sure. But you didn’t lash out, or try and stop me from leaving, or anything like that. We can disagree on things and still be...friends.” The word sticks in your throat, like it’s too large for you to speak without forcing it.

“I really suck at this whole friends thing,” Rick says with a sarcastic smirk. “I’ve not had a whole lot of practise.”

“Me either. But it’s nice, learning how to do it together.”

“It is, at that.” He seems to relax finally, the tension he was holding seeping out from his body as he sags back into the sofa. The air clear, he now manages to look you in the eye.

“So Henry didn’t do anything to you?” he asks carefully. “No mind probe or whatever?”

You shake your head, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. “Nothing I couldn’t handle. We mostly just talked. It was kind of sappy, you would have hated it. It was all about love, and following your heart.”

“It’s funny you should say that,” Rick says. His expression is troubled now, like manifesting these thoughts is almost physically painful. “There was another reason I didn’t want you to go see Henry, other than what I said earlier. And I don’t really know if I should say it, because once I do, it might change...everything between us. Which, granted, isn’t perfect, but it’s probably the best thing I’ve got going for me right now, so I don’t know if I want to put that on the line.”

You’re not sure where this is going. You readjust on the sofa, making yourself more comfortable. 

“Whatever it is you want to say Rick, I’m ready to hear it. I’ve always said I’m here for you. And I promise, whatever it is you have to say, it won’t change anything. Pretty sure I literally just said that nothing you can do could make me leave.”

You sit back, waiting for Rick to continue.

“I...God, this is so stupid.” He covers his face with his hand in embarrassment, and the next time he speaks, it’s from between his own fingers.

“I didn’t like the idea of you spending time with Henry. The way you talked about him before, about how you thought he was a good guy and all that...it sounded so familiar. It was how you’d talked to me before, how you’d talked about me before. I felt...”

Realisation dawns on you a second before Rick says the word, and you both say it in unison.

“...jealous.”

Rick removes his hand and looks at you, searching your face for your reaction to that. You’re not sure what you look like. You’re not sure how you feel, what the implications of this are.

“Why would you be jealous?” you ask him, trying to play for time. “It’s just Henry.”

“I didn’t know if it meant...I thought...you’ve been helping me. Getting to know me. And I thought it meant, maybe I’ve just been reading it all wrong and I’m a total idiot, but I thought it meant that maybe...you liked me. And then you wanted to see Henry, to help him, like you’ve been helping me, and I thought it meant that you liked him, instead.” 

He’s rambling, his train of thought pulling out of his brain station and tunnelling its way out of his mouth without any kind of filter. It’s probably the most raw you’ve seen him, at least without any anger involved.

You shift in your seat, turning your entire body towards Rick, letting him know that he has your full attention, so he can hear the truth behind what you have to say next. You say it slowly, with certainty. “I don’t like Henry – not like that.”

Rick moves towards you, tentatively at first, and then with more confidence when he sees that you aren’t shrinking away. His face fills your entire field of vision, he’s all you can see, all you want to see.

He’s so close to you now that you can feel his shallow breaths on your skin, like he’s terrified to breath in case he blows you away. “And me? Do you like me...like that?”

Before he can move away you reach up and cup his cheek with your hand, drawing his face even closer to yours until your lips touch. You feel him inhale sharply, and then his hands find your own cheeks and he holds you to him as you kiss for the first time.

It’s quick but intimate, like you’re stealing the moment and have to get as much out of it as you can before it’s over. He tastes of uncertainty, with a hint of vindication as the kiss continues. His hands on your skin are tender, like he’s powered up and wants to make sure you don’t break under his touch.

When it’s over, you rest your forehead on his, smiling a little. “Does that answer your question?”

Rick laughs, a note of pure amusement and happiness, and it’s the most wonderful sound you’ve ever heard. “Yeah. Yeah, it does.”


	10. Powerless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set during the events of Stargirl 01x10 - Brainwave Jr.

The bliss that comes after your kiss lasts the entire walk home. Leaving Rick at the foot of the trail back to his house feels like one of the hardest things you’ve ever done but, with a promise to see him again in the morning, you finally wrench yourself away and walk the remaining distance home with an enormous smile on your face.

You’d known, deep down, that you wanted to be more than friends with the mysterious Rick Harris as soon as he’d offered you that Nutty Buddy back on the football field. It might have taken you a while to realise it, or to admit it to yourself, but it had been true from the start. 

Since then you’ve fought for him, stood in his corner, helped him come into his own and embrace who he is. You’ve managed to become his friend, after many false starts and set-backs.

And, if that was all he wanted, then that would be enough. If your feelings were unrequited, then you would be happy to be his friend, to be part of his world, always in his orbit, the moon to his superhero planet.

But, and this is the most miraculous part of it all –they aren’t unrequited at all. _He feels the same way._

You’re not sure what comes next. Is he your boyfriend now? Is that the logical next step? Do you tell the rest of the JSA? Are there HR forms to fill out? Will Pat forbid fraternising between teammates? 

And will you get to kiss him again?

For once, the problems flying around in your mind are ones you’re happy to think about, happy to try and solve, because all of the solutions lead to happier places, rather than more battles to fight.

It’s that comfort that brings you the best night’s sleep you’ve had in weeks.

*********

Your extended stay at the Pit Stop, while worth every single minute, has come back to bite you. You’ve overslept, so for the first time you’re legitimately late for school, rather than simply choosing to be. Unsurprisingly, this feels a lot more problematic than when you’re making the conscious decision to be late.

Not that you’d trade anything for the time you spent with Rick last night. It feels like a barrier has been broken, or a line has been crossed, and now everything is different. But it’s a good kind of different – the ground is surer beneath your feet, and you don’t feel as though everything is going to fall away from you at any moment.

It does mean however that you don’t actually get to see Rick until lunch; you catch up with him outside of the cafeteria, and his usual stoic frown breaks into a smile as soon as he sees you.

“There you are. I was worried.” It’s a simple sentence, but it carries much more weight than you would think. He had been thinking about you. As you had been thinking about him.

You skid to a stop before him, nearly taking out a group of freshman as you do so. “Sorry! I got home late after last night, and then I just slept right through my alarm.”

“Funny. I managed to get here on time, and we left about the same time,” he says, looking superior. 

You swat at his arm. “Give me a break.”

“Give _me_ a kiss,” he says, taking your wrist in his hand and drawing you towards him. There’s a hungry look in his eyes that you’ve never seen before, but it’s not threatening in the slightest – in fact, it makes you feel...wanted. Needed. Like you never have before.

The blush in your cheeks throws a spanner in Rick’s plan however, and you feel yourself look around self-consciously before you can stop yourself. “Here? Now?”

Rick’s smile droops a little, the frown reasserting itself. “Do you not want to? I thought...after last night...”

“No!” you shout, and the look of hurt on his face is like cold water slapping into yours. “No, that’s not what I mean! Of course I do! Just...do you think it’s wise, in the middle of the hall where everyone can see?”

“Are you ashamed of me or something?” he asks, the pain in his eyes growing by the second. “I didn’t think-”

“That’s not it at all!” You can feel the situation spiralling out of control, like a bucking bronco at a rodeo. “No, this isn’t...Can I start over?” You punctuate the sentence with an exasperated sigh.

“Please. I’m super confused right now.”

You take a deep breath, eyeing a group of seniors who pass you by as if you’re not even there. “The last thing I could ever be is ashamed of you, Rick. Or ashamed to be seen with you. You mean the world to me. I just...this is all new. I’ve never done this kind of thing before.”

“Nor have I,” Rick admits. “No one’s exactly lining up to date the poor angry kid.”

“Good, that means I don’t have to fight anyone to get to the front of the line,” you shoot back. His frown breaks against your humour, and his smile returns.

“So you want to take it slow?” he asks. “Is that it?”

You fix your eyes on his feet, unable to look him in the eye; you suddenly feel extremely immature. “If that’s alright with you. I’d understand, if you don’t. We can just say it was a mistake, and-”  
Rick, still holding one of your wrists, catches the other one between his fingers. The shock of his touch makes you look up, and the tenderness in his eyes is enough to make you fall for him all over again. “I want to do whatever you want to do. If that’s slow, then it’s slow. If it’s full-on makeout sessions in front of the entire cafeteria, than I’m cool with that too. I just don’t want to mess this up.”

“You could never. Let me make it up to you – did you want to go out to the football field? We could be alone for a bit,” you suggest, dropping your hands. Rick places his in the pockets of his oversized hoodie.

“Let’s eat inside for once,” he replies. “I don’t want the rest of the gang to think we’re ditching them.”

“You realise that literally everyone thinks there’s something going on between us, right?” you say with a laugh. “Both Beth and Courtney have asked me about it, point blank.”

Rick looks surprised, his eyebrows shooting up comically. “Really?”

“Apparently how I feel about you was obvious to everyone _but_ you.”

“And...what did you tell them?” Rick tries to act coy, but you can tell he’s fishing. You fire off a wink at him before answering.

“That I didn’t know what we were. But I’d hoped we could be something. And now, we are.”

“We are something, at that,” Rick agrees, nodding his head like you’ve just said the most intelligent thing in the world.

“Alright, come on,” you say, nudging Rick with your shoulder as you pass into the cafeteria. “Let’s go eat with our friends.” You put so much emphasis on the word that it sounds as if eating with the rest of the JSA is utterly unbearable.

Rick follows quickly after you, chuckling to himself. “Yeesh, who’d have thought spending time with our friends would be such a chore? C’mon, what’s the worst that could happen?”

*********

Apparently, this is the worst that can happen:

Rick is covered in his lunch, his face bright red with fury. Yolanda isn’t far behind, the sound of her grinding teeth louder than the pulse of your heart in your ears. The entire cafeteria is looking at the three of you.

Courtney and Beth have disappeared elsewhere along with Henry, who is yet again the reason for a schism in the team. 

This time however, Henry came to you asking for help. His father has woken from his coma, apparently with amnesia, and has been coerced back into the Injustice Society by Jordan Mahkent. The same Jordan Mahkent who also, as if kidnapping Henry’s father wasn’t bad enough, has stolen Courtney’s Cosmic Staff.

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” you say, grabbing both Rick and Yolanda by the arm and dragging them out of the room like a stern parent. “We’re making a scene.”

“No one pays any attention to us,” Yolanda hisses. “That’s half the problem on this team. We told Courtney that asking Henry to help us was a bad idea, and now we’re the ones helping him?” 

This feels like a familiar argument at this point, one that you’ve had with alarming regularity. You find a quiet corridor and release your friends; they both shrug off your touch, anger fuelling their movements. 

“I can’t believe Courtney’s up for this,” Yolanda says to Rick, who is now attempting to pick random bits of food off of his hoodie. “She knows what Henry did to me. But she wants to help him anyway?”

“I know what you mean,” Rick replies. “It’s like this is the Courtney show, and we’re just supposed to go along for the ride, no matter how her decisions affect us.”

You feel something bubbling within you, something strange and unfamiliar. It takes you a second to realise what it is – it’s the red rage of anger, burning in your gut like acid reflux. You can’t remember the last time you felt like this, if you ever have at all. But one thing you do know, after watching Rick, and Yolanda, is that anger bottled up is bad for everyone. 

So, you let it out.

You bang your fist on the nearest wall, dislodging some display papers onto the floor. Push pins roll away like marbles. “Hey! Do you two hear yourselves?”

Rick and Yolanda, still busy bickering about Courtney, stop and look at you in surprise.

“Courtney is our friend,” you say. “The reason we’re all friends. The reason you guys are _superheroes_. She cares about both of you, about all of us. She doesn’t want anyone to get hurt, or to do anything they don’t want to do.”

“Then maybe she should-” Yolanda starts, but you cut across her, voice rising.

“Nope, I’m talking now, you get to listen. You may be the ones with the superpowers, but you’re acting like idiots.”

Yolanda looks like she wants to retort, but Rick places a hand on her shoulder, leaving a small red stain from his attempts to remove his lunch on her shirt.

“We should hear this,” he says simply. He has learned that, when you speak, it’s usually because you have something important to say.

“Do you think Courtney doesn’t know how you feel? Despite you telling her, over and over? Do you think she doesn’t care? Because of course she does! That girl is like 50% caring and 50% ultimate badass. All she knows how do to is look out for people, and kick bad guy butt.

“But if we’re going to stop the ISA, then we need as much help as we can get, and, although it hurts to hear, that includes Henry. I know he’s not the greatest guy – hell, he’s nowhere near. But he’s our best shot right now! 

“You know he has powers; he could easily have gone after his dad on his own. But he came to us for help. He knows that we’re on the right side of this. He heard what Court and I had to say when we saw him at the hospital. He may not have made all the right choices in the past, but this time, he did!

“I know it’s hard to accept, and you don’t have to like it. But Courtney needs our help, and that’s what being someone’s friend means – showing up for them, even when you think they’re doing something stupid.”

The anger in your stomach is gone now, as if you’ve expelled it out into the world and released it from its containment, allowing your body to return to normal. You realise you’re breathing quite hard, and you take a deep breath to steady yourself.

Yolanda’s glaring at you with hurt in her eyes. Maybe you’ve gone too far? All she says is, “You’re right. I don’t have to like it. But I’ll be there.” 

Then she turns on her heel and disappears, leaving you and Rick alone.

“That was pretty impressive,” he says. “How do you always know the right thing to say?”

“Maybe that’s my superpower,” you muse, shaking your head. “I didn’t mean to yell. But I just couldn’t take it any more. We all keep second guessing Court, when all she wants to do is the right thing. It’s just so frustrating.”

“I won’t say the s-word,” Rick says. He sidles up to you, snaking an arm around your waist. There’s no one in the corridor now, and you relax into him gently, resting your head on his shoulder. “But I am. You’re right, as always. First time I’ve seen you yell, though.”

“Sorry,” you say, taking your turn. “I didn’t want to.”

“It was kinda hot,” Rick says, and you look up to see an enormous shit-eating grin on his face. You slap him in the chest. 

“Idiot.” But you’re smiling now, your venting already a distant memory.

Both of you are quiet for a moment; you can feel the last of Rick’s own anger seeping out of him, feel his heartbeat return to normal through your contact.

“So, where are we going to meet, do you think?” you ask after a moment. “Cindy’s house? It’s empty now that she’s not living there; Pat drove past a few times, and her mom, or whoever that lady was, is nowhere to be seen. We can get into the tunnels from there.”

Rick looks down at you, one eyebrow quirked up. When he speaks it’s with a quiet voice, but the words he says are like anchors dropping into the distant sand at the bottom of the ocean, final and unmoving. “You...you’re not coming with us, you realise that, right?”

You pull yourself off of him, narrowing your own eyes. “What do you mean? Of course I am.”

“It’s too dangerous,” Rick says carefully. “I know you can take care of yourself, but we have no idea what we’re getting ourselves into down there. The whole of the ISA could be around any corner.”

“I don’t care! Henry’s my friend too, you all are – I’m not just going to sit back and wait for you all to come home like...like I’ve married a firefighter or something.”

Rick’s still speaking slowly and softly, and you know it’s because he’s right, and he’s telling you something you don’t want to hear; it’s a tactic he’s learned from you. Using your own tricks against you is playing dirty.

“If you come with us, we’ll be constantly looking over our shoulders. We’re all so new at this whole powers thing; it’s hard enough to look out for ourselves. You’d be...”

He’s trying hard to find the right word, or maybe the least offensive one, but you know what he means. You finish his sentence for him.

“I’d be a liability,” you say, deflating like a popped balloon. “I know. But the idea of staying here while you guys go into the lion’s den...how am I supposed to do that?”

You feel your throat burn, and your eyes begin to sting, but you fight back the tears. Nothing’s happened yet. There’s nothing to cry about.

“You trust us,” Rick replies. “You trust Courtney, and Yolanda, and Beth, and me. Hell, even Henry. We can do this. We’ll go get the staff, and Henry’s dad, and we’ll be back, safe and sound. Can you do that? Can you trust us?”

“Of course,” you say immediately. “But it doesn’t make it any easier.”

“I know.” Rick holds up his arm, indicating for you to return to your spot next to him. You do so, however reluctantly. “But you’re strong. Probably stronger than all of us.”

You know he’s saying that to be kind, but at this moment, realising that you have to wait on the shore while your friends sail into danger, you feel like the weakest person on the planet.

*********

You still don’t feel like the strong one as you walk home from school that night. You feel like the terrified one. The useless one. This is what Pat meant, when he talked about being the one person without powers on a team full of superheroes. The one who has to just watch their friends go off and fight without you, and sit up waiting for them to come home.

Or not come home.

You’re so lost in your head that it takes you a moment to realise that there is something wrong with the street outside your house. It’s the smell that hits you first, like decayed flesh left out in the sun to rot. Your initial thought is that the sewer drain is acting up again, and you look over at the manhole that sits in the middle of the street, as if a dirty look might cause the smell to recede.

But the manhole cover has been slid to one side, revealing a ladder beneath. You stop, puzzled, and that’s when the sack gets dumped over your head.

Two pairs of rough hands grab your arms, pinning them to your sides, and you feel your feet leave the floor and the world turn upside down as you’re bundled into the manhole.

You thrash, but your weak punches and kicks land at awkward angles and don’t seem to do any damage to your attackers. You scream, but all that accomplishes is filling your mouth with the dirty burlap of the sack, making you cough and splutter.

And then everything is darkness, as you descend deeper and deeper into the sewers, and the tunnels beneath Blue Valley. 

You’re not sure how long you travel for, minutes, or hours. Eventually you give up thrashing, because it’s having no effect, and you’ve managed to wear yourself out. 

It’s not long after that that you’re thrown down onto a cold stone floor, grazing your elbows and knees as you slide.

You scrabble at your face, wrenching the sack off your head and turning towards your assailants, only to see a solid stone door slam down before you, and a truly wicked cackle echo around the room, as if from all directions and yet none at all. 

The room, or maybe cell is a better description, is nondescript; a small bed pulls down from the wall on two hinges, and a toilet and sink occupy the opposite corner. The walls are unmarked, and there’s no window. Light is funnelled in from somewhere, but there are no bulbs to be seen.

“What’s going on? Where am I? What do you want from me?” you shout, but there is no answer from outside.

Through the wall next to you however, you hear the last voice you expect to hear anywhere, least of all in a stone prison beneath Blue Valley.

“Oh great,” says Cindy Burman, “you’re here too. As if my day could get any worse.”

“Cindy? What’s going on? Where are we?”

“Don’t play coy. You’re part of that new Justice Society that Courtney’s putting together. You know what this is.”

“The ISA…” you realise, and your heart feels as if it’s grown too large for your chest as terror floods your body. Every beat threatens to knock you off your feet.

“Bingo. Welcome to my dad’s lair. You’re now an honoured guest of the Dragon King.” 

“Me? Why me?” You’re already grappling with the idea that you’re not important enough to the JSA, and yet now you’ve been captured by your mortal enemies?

Cindy sneers; you can picture her face, even through the impenetrable stone wall that separates you, and hear it in her voice as she replies. “You’re the least threatening, obviously. I may be in prison, but my daddy’s been listening to me; I know who Stargirl is, which means he knows who Stargirl is, who all your little friends are.”

“Has he...told the others?” you venture, but Cindy just laughs shrilly.

“Daddy’s good at keeping secrets. And besides, he doesn’t really care. Civilian identities are the last thing on his mind.”

“That still doesn’t explain why I’m here.”

“When we managed to...acquire Stargirl’s little staff, we knew she’d come running – but we wanted to make sure. We know what she and the others will do to rescue you. You’ll be the perfect bait. Once they realise you’re missing too, they’ll all come running.”

You had wanted to be useful; you had wanted to help your friends in their fight, and yet now here you are doing the total opposite. If the Dragon King knows that Stargirl and the rest are coming, then this is a trap. 

A trap that the entire Justice Society are going to walk right into.

The thing that Cindy and her father haven’t realised is that they didn’t need you at all – with the Staff and Henry Sr. in their grasp, they already had enough to entice Courtney and the others down here after them. So maybe the ISA don’t know that the JSA are coming sooner than they are anticipating.

It’s a flimsy hope, but it’s the only one you have to hold on to right now, so it will have to do.

*********

Eventually, Cindy gets bored of taunting you and falls silent. One of the Dragon King’s minions opens a small slot in the door and passes through some food. It forgets to close the hatch behind it when it leaves, so at least now you can peer out into the room rather than staring at four blank walls and fretting.

It’s a wide chamber, like something you’d expect to find in a medieval castle; stone pillars decorated with braziers and weaponry litter the area, and Courtney’s Cosmic Staff is suspended between two of them, chained in four places and encased in a metal cage. 

There are wooden tables covered in papers and half-finished experiments, no doubt whatever foul thing the Dragon King is midway through preparing.

If you peer out far enough, you can see the Dragon King himself, an imposing, robed figure with his face obscured; he has Henry’s father, Brainwave, up on a platform like Frankenstein’s monster, electrodes attached to his head. You don’t know much about mad science, but something tells you that you should get Henry Sr. out of that as quickly as possible.

Not that you have any ideas about how to escape. And even if you could get out of your cell, is there any guarantee that you can get out of this room before the Dragon King or his weird minions recapture you?

As awful as it is to contemplate, the only thing you can do is wait. You know Courtney and the others are on their way; all you can do is sit tight and hope they can break you out. 

It feels like termites are trapped under your skin, this feeling of having no control, of being of absolutely no use to anyone, and not being able to do anything about it. You can’t sit still, but you can’t go anywhere; it’s absolutely maddening.

After what feels like hours, you hear Cindy’s shrill voice scream “Daddy? Daddy, daddy, daddy, she’s here! That bitch is here!” and rush to the hatch once more. Your heart leaps when you spy Stargirl, Wildcat, and Henry Jr. sneaking into the room, then plummets just as far when Cindy’s cries alert her father, and any element of surprise your friends have disintegrates.

If being trapped without your friends was bad, being trapped and having to watch as they fight is infinitely worse. The Dragon King’s minions are everywhere, those strange zombie-like people fighting with the same jerky movements that they amble around with. Courtney, Yolanda, and Henry tear through them easily, but eventually their overwhelming numbers are going to get the better of your friends.

Henry barrels past at one point, no doubt headed towards his father. You poke your face as far out of the hole as you can and shout his name, and for a split-second he stops.

“Henry! Get me out of here, please!”

There’s a flash of confusion as Henry registers your presence, but it doesn’t last long before he thrusts his hand out towards the door before yanking it backwards, telekinetically ripping the stone slab from its hinges. It soars across the room and crushes another three of the Dragon King’s minions.

“You’re not supposed to be here! Get out, get somewhere safe!”

You want to argue. You want to stay and fight. But you’ve seen enough of the melee to know that there’s little to nothing you can do. You don’t have Henry’s powers, or Yolanda’s claws, or even Courtney’s natural gymnastic ability. You’re just you, and you’re exactly what Rick said you were – a liability. “Be careful,” you say to Henry, one hand on his shoulder, and then make for the exit, skirting past Wildcat and Stargirl as they continue to fight. 

You make it to the doorway without being accosted, all of the Dragon King’s men busy with your friends. You’re about to flee into the tunnels, but something makes you stop and look back.

Henry’s father is unconscious on the ground, and Henry is fleeing from him as fast as he can. Wildcat has reunited Courtney with her staff, and the two of them have knocked the Dragon King across the room. But the minions keep coming.

“Guys! Come on, we have to go!” you shout, your voice sounding weak and shaky even to your own ears. Your legs want to flee, but now that you’ve seen them your heart refuses to move while it knows your friends are still in danger, and it’s only when you’re all reunited that you can begin to run once more.

“What are you doing here?” Courtney asks as you flee back through the corridors; you follow their lead as you go, not having any idea of which way is the right one since you were blinded on your way down. 

“It’s a long story,” you tell her between gasping for air. “Where are Rick and Beth?”

“Up ahead. Hopefully they’re doing better than we are.”

You twist and turn through the darkness, trying your hardest not to fall over your own feet. You can feel Henry, Wildcat, and Stargirl around you, their presence reassuring, like a shield against the evil that infests this place.

Then you feel awful all over again for having to rely on them, before all of your emotions are swallowed up by panic and adrenaline as you propel yourself faster and faster away from the Dragon King.

Another corner takes you to a crossroads, and suddenly Hourman and Doctor Mid-Nite have joined you, swiftly pursued by even more of the Dragon King’s guards.

Rick’s face is a mask of anger and shock as he realises you’re here. “What the hell? I told you to stay behind!”

“I did, I swear! I wanted to come with you, but not like this!”

“No time, come on!” Courtney shouts. Rick bites his tongue and grabs your hand, before you’re off and running once more.

*********

“You’re right. People are good. Don’t let this change your mind.”

Henry’s words, his final words, are like glass shards tipped with poison thrust into your chest. His face is caked in dirt; blood drips from his nose and ears, red waterfalls of pain. Behind him his father stands menacingly, his face contorted in rage and concentration as he begins to tear the ceiling of the tunnel apart.

Henry King Jr. is about to die, and all you can do is watch.

Around you, the rest of the JSA mount futile attempts to rescue him. Wildcat slices at the bars separating you from him, while Hourman and Stargirl unload so many punches and energy blasts that it’s impossible to keep count. Doctor Mid-Nite screams at her goggles, begging Chuck to answer her, but to no avail.

And you are paralyzed with fear, and an acute feeling of how utterly useless you truly are. You have no powers. You have no way of helping your friends. There’s absolutely nothing you can do.

Your eyes are fixed on Henry’s face, trying to etch him into your memory. He asked you once who he truly was, behind the mask, behind the facade that he constructed to survive Blue Valley High. 

This is who he is. This is the Henry that you want to remember.

He is a man who wanted his father’s love and approval. Who loved his father, despite his flaws. A man who risked everything to save someone he cared about, and even those that he barely knew. He is kind, and caring, and vulnerable. He is all these things, and so much more that you will never get to discover, that he will never get to discover about himself.

He is a hero.

And then the ceiling collapses, hundreds of tonnes of concrete, steel, and stone falling on top of him, and he is gone.

You see the others react, distantly, like you’re suddenly not even in the room with them. Rick screams in defiance. Yolanda collapses into him, roaring with pain and regret. Courtney’s crying, the Cosmic Staff limp in her hand, and Beth’s goggles have fogged up with tears.

You feel your own sorrow well up inside, an explosion of sadness and frustration at Brainwave for doing this, at the ISA for putting Henry in this position in the first place, and at yourself for not being able to help him.

You had tried so hard. You had hoped that something you said, anything you said, had made a difference. But it was all too little, too late. 

Henry King Jr. is dead.

Your hands are numb as you begin to climb the ladder out of the tunnels, back up into Cindy’s abandoned home and out into Blue Valley proper. Your entire body is numb as you walk through the house, as empty and devoid of life as Henry’s body, which you can’t even collect, which you can’t even bury. Your tears are numb as they make their way down your face, ice cold blocks of crystallized sadness cutting across your cheeks like razor wire.

At some point you feel a presence beside you; the rustle of a cape tells you that it’s Rick, and you instinctively reach out towards him. Your legs suddenly feel useless, as if the bones within have turned to mush, and you lean hard against him, turning your head into his shoulder so that he doesn’t see you cry.

A gloved hand places itself in the small of your back, holds you against him as your body heaves, trying to expel the seemingly never-ending sadness that has taken root.

For once, you are appreciative of the anger that takes up most of Rick’s being. Anger is strong, anger is powerful. Anger is a rock on which you can splash your sadness, knowing that it will stand tall despite it.

And anger is what you’re going to need if you want to avenge Henry’s death, and stop the Injustice Society once and for all.


	11. Faith And Doubt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set during the events of Stargirl 01x11 - Shining Knight

You don’t remember getting home. You don’t remember falling asleep. All you remember is Henry’s face as he died, right before your eyes. The desperation, the pain, the utter despair as his own father, _his own father_ brought all of that rubble down on top of him.

Henry King Jr. is dead. 

That thought rattles through your mind like a death knell as you lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. You’re not even sure if you’ve slept; your body feels tired to the very core, as if you’ve been walking underwater for miles and miles.

The fact that Rick is asleep next to you should register higher on your list of priorities. He must have come home with you last night. But you can barely feel his presence. You can barely feel yourself. You’ve checked out of your body, your grief giving you a vacation from feeling anything but numb.

Rick murmurs next to you, and you risk a glance sideways as his eyelids flutter open. He’s already frowning, like his face knows that this is the position it will spend most of the day in and wants to get a head start.

“Hi.” Your voice is monotone, your body unable to apply any trace of feelings to it since they’re all too busy being distraught.

“Hi.” 

Rick’s face is only inches from yours, something that would have filled you with joy only twenty four hours ago. Joy feels so far away now though, so impossible to reach ever again.

Twice now the ISA has taken someone from you, right in front of your eyes. First Joey Zarick, whom you had barely known, and now Henry, whom you wish you had known more.

What more did they want to take from you? What more would you _allow them_ to take from you? They’ve taken so much from your friends already – Courtney’s father, Rick’s parents, Pat’s friends. Where does it end?

“God, Henry,” Rick breathes. “I can’t believe it.”

“I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t think I can,” you tell him. It’s too painful, easier to hide within this cocoon of razor blades that is your thoughts than face the truth.

“Okay,” Rick says, his voice almost imperceptible. “I can tell you about what Beth and I saw instead, if you want.”

“Please. Anything to distract me.”

And so he does. He relays the trip that he and Beth took through the tunnels, how they came across the enormous metal door that imprisoned Solomon Grundy, the monster responsible for the death of his parents, and how he had very nearly yanked the door off its hinges in an effort to free the creature and kill it once and for all.

“If the Dragon King’s things hadn’t turned up, I might have managed it,” he finishes. You’ve sat up in bed now, and you can see Rick’s Hourman suit, as well as his civilian clothes, scattered around your room. He’s slept in one of your old t-shirts. It’d almost be funny, if the circumstances were any different.

You roll over and look at him, the pain in his eyes, the fierce set of his jaw as he relives his parents’ death for the millionth time in his mind. “I can’t imagine how that must have felt, Rick. Seeing Grundy must have been awful.”

“I just wanted to rip his head off. He hurt me so much, they all did. To be so close to revenge and have it taken away...”

You reach out under the covers and find his hand, squeezing it reassuringly. The heat of his rage brings you back to yourself, spreading out from your point of contact until the rest of your body slowly begins to feel warm again.

“Promise me something,” you say suddenly as an awful thought creeps to the forefront of your mind. “Promise me you won’t go back down there alone to face him. I know you want justice for your parents, but I couldn’t...I can’t-” 

Your voice catches as despair overwhelms you again, like a fire blanket smothering your other emotions into ash. “I can’t lose you too,” you finally manage to whisper.

Rick squeezes back, your fingers aching under his strength. “Hey. You won’t. I swear. I’m not going anywhere. I may be crazy, but I’m not suicidal. And besides, I know where he is now. Next time I face him, he’ll get what’s coming to him.”

You close your eyes, focusing on the feeling of Rick’s hand beneath yours, an anchor point to stop you from spiraling into further despair.

“What were you doing down there, anyway? Did you...follow us?” Rick’s question is tentative, as if he’s worried that it might cause some kind of emotional reaction he isn’t prepared for. “I won’t be mad, if you did.”

If only it were that simple, you think, shaking your head and opening your eyes to prevent the previous evening from replaying on your eyelids like a bad movie. “The Dragon King captured me. I ended up in a cell next to Cindy Burman, of all people.”

“ _What?_ ” Rick asks, incredulous. He props himself up on his pillow, dark eyes searching for an explanation in your face. 

Slowly, you begin to tell him what happened. It takes you a moment to really get going, but as you continue to speak you come back to life, like an engine that needs a warm-up after decades of neglect. 

Your tale ends with your reunion in the tunnels, and then your voice catches yet again, like someone has lined your throat with invisible barbed wire and voicing any thought that takes you even close to Henry’s death will cause your words to be trapped, unable to come into being.

Rick is silent, but his grip on your hand is tighter than ever, like he’s scared that if he lets you go for even a second, he might lose you again.

“It’s a good thing we went down there when we did,” he manages through gritted teeth. “If I’d found out they’d taken you...I would have smashed down every door in that place to come and get you, we all would have.”

“That’s what they were counting on,” you sigh again. “You were right. I couldn’t fight. I couldn’t help. All I did was act as bait, and I didn’t even manage to do that right. Maybe I shouldn’t be a part of the JSA after all; all I do is drag you all down, give you someone else to worry about.”

“Bullshit.” Rick shakes his head violently, trying to dislodge the very idea before it can come to settle in his brain. “You’re part of the team. You’re too important to us not to be included.” His voice grows quiet before he adds: “...You’re too important to me.”

You’ve been fixated on the ceiling since you started recounting your tale, trying to distance yourself from it, but now you turn and look at Rick properly. His hair is mussed up on one side from where he’s been laying, but to you he has never looked more perfect. His expression is one of fierce loyalty, almost devotion; he means every word he’s said, there isn’t a single doubt in his mind.

Part of you is pleased by this; you’d been so terrified of unreciprocated feelings in the past, but the fact that it’s taken such a dangerous situation, such a horrendous loss, to elicit this kind of reaction from Rick puts a dampener on everything, like you’re viewing it all from behind a screen.

You’re saved from trying to come up with something to say in return, trying to articulate how strongly you feel about him, by your phone buzzing. Rick looks like he’s going to tell you to leave it, but you’ve already turned to your bedside cabinet and grabbed it.

It’s Courtney. _“Pat says act normal. The ISA don’t know who we are; we shouldn’t give them any reason to suspect us.”_

You relay the message to Rick, who nods and pulls himself to his feet before starting to collect the discarded pieces of his Hourman suit from the floor.

“What is normal, these days?” you wonder. “I don’t think I’ve had a normal day in weeks.”

“Well, I’d planned on going to the Pit Stop with Beth, having another crack at my dad’s journal. You can come, if you want.”

“Sounds like as good a plan as any,” you think. “Whatever we do, let’s go before my mom wakes up. If she finds you in here, the ISA might be the least of our problems.”

Rick visibly gulps at this, and you feel your face crack. Somehow, even amongst all this darkness and grief, he still manages to make you smile.

*********

If this is what has come to constitute a normal day in Blue Valley, you’re going to have to re-evaluate your definition of normal.

Because having the school janitor almost attack you with a sword, only to discover that he’s actually a superhero, who may or may not be a knight of Camelot, definitely didn’t fall into your idea of normal before today.

Justin is seated nearby, muttering to himself, while Pat murmurs reassurances to him, rubbing his back like he would a sick child. 

Beth is in deep conversation with Chuck, trying to find out all she can about this so-called Shining Knight. Which leaves you and Rick to stand around trying to look helpful. 

“Can you believe this?” Rick wonders, gazing over at the Knight with a strange mix of confusion and admiration on his face. “The school janitor was a superhero?”

“Seems more common than you’d think, in this town,” you quip back. “Almost everyone we know is some kind of hero or villain these days.”

Rick runs a hand through his hair, trying to find an argument against that and failing. “You know what, you’re right, and that doesn’t even phase me anymore. Blue Valley, man. This town is...”

“Weird?”

“That’s one word for it.” He turns back towards one of Pat’s workbenches, where Justin’s sword rests. It glints with a strange light, as if it is lit from within. The edge looks razor sharp, and the filigree around the hilt and pommel is exquisite. You don’t know much about swords, but even you can tell that it is a beautiful example of one.

You reach out and touch Rick’s arm, just as he goes for the hilt. “I wouldn’t touch that any more than you have to, if I were you. Excalibur is only wielded by the worthy.”

Rick’s eyebrow wings up, and you shrug. “That’s what the legends say, anyway.”

“And that guy’s worthy? The janitor?” Rick looks over at Justin, his raised eyebrow remaining in place skeptically.

“If Pat says he’s the Shining Knight, then he’s the Shining Knight.”

“I guess so. Still, seems hard to believe. But he’s the one with the sword, so I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt,” Rick says, gingerly stepping away from the pointy end.

“I kind of feel sorry for him,” you say, voice laden with sadness, an all too familiar sound these days. “He’s another victim of the ISA, of Brainwave. If they wiped his mind, he needs our help.”

Rick’s arm tenses, and you feel the tendons of his forearm raise under your fingers. “God, is there nothing those assholes won’t do?”

“We’ll stop them. Whatever it takes, we’ll stop them.” You hope you sound even half as confident as you wish you were.

“I’ve gotta call Barbara, let her know we’re going to have another guest,” Pat says, rising to his feet. “Can you keep an eye on Justin for me, just for a minute?”

Beth’s still talking to Chuck, so he looks to you and Rick. You in turn look over at Justin, but he seems to have calmed down a bit; he’s no longer shaking quite so much, and his muttering has stopped. There may not be a lot of things you can do for the JSA, but you can do this. “You got it.”

Pat nods, slides his phone out of his pocket and retreats to his office. Justin catches your eye and extends a hand. “May I have my sword? Please?” he asks, his voice surer and steadier than it has been all morning.

You and Rick share a glance, before you collect the sword gingerly from the workbench and hold it out to him. It’s heavier than it looks, but perfectly balanced. 

“Just promise not to attack us again, okay?” Rick says, only half joking.

Justin smiles as he takes the sword from you, the corners of his beard bunching together with an almost childlike innocence. “Nay, I would never. Now that my mind is clearer, I can tell friend from foe. And any friends of Stripsey are most certainly friends of mine.”

Something has been playing at your mind since the Knight had finished his tale before, and you take the opportunity to ask the question now; it’s either that, or the three of you stare awkwardly at each other, and you don’t think any of you want that. “What you said earlier, during your story - ‘Heroes can come from anywhere.’ Did you really mean that?”

Rick looks surprised, but only for a moment. Justin however looks offended, and he straightens his back defensively. “Dare you impune my honour? Those words were spoken by King Arthur himself; I would never twist the words of one such as he.”

You raise your hands in surrender and Justin backs down. “Hey, whoa, I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s just...it’s a nice sentiment, you know? The idea that anyone can be a hero, no matter who they are.”

“Aye. That thought has kept me fighting for centuries. And it has never once been proven wrong. I have seen men and women both who come from nothing rise to be the greatest heroes I’ve ever known.” He has a wistful look in his eyes; if he truly has lived as long as he says he has, then that statement holds even more weight.

Your brain, which has been oddly compliant for the last few days, takes over your mouth before you’re able to stop it and you hear yourself blurt, “Do you think I could do it? Be a hero, I mean?”

Rick doesn’t manage to hide the surprise on his face this time.

In truth, you’re surprised at yourself. Your initial thought is _Where has this come from?_ , but that only lasts for a second before it becomes obvious – you’re surrounded by superheroes all day, and most of your dark thoughts lately have been about feeling useless. It’s only natural that you’d want some validation of your own. But to seek it from the janitor, of all people? 

Justin studies you for a moment, eyes narrowing in intense concentration. You want to rescind your question, but it’s as if his gaze has pinned you to the spot and you dare not move. It feels like he is peeling back every layer of your being, peering down into your very core; it’s not unpleasant, but you’re not used to feeling this emotionally exposed. Even Rick doesn’t manage to peer this deeply into you – perhaps because he’s still grappling with being able to understand himself.

At last Justin speaks again, his old-timey brogue lilting and musical. “I have seen many people, over my many years of life. Those with the purest of hearts, and those with souls twisted until they are poisoned and black. I do not pretend that I am the best judge of character, but I do believe I have had more experience than most. You though...”

You’re holding your breath, suddenly petrified of the answer he’s going to give. What if you’re evil? What if you’re just as bad as the ISA, only you don’t know it yet? Or, perhaps worse – what if you’re nothing? What if you’re just bland, boring, and as useless as you’ve feared?

“You...have incredible potential,” Justin says delicately. “You feel so strongly, about everyone, and everything. Even I can see that, and I have not known you very long at all. Or perhaps I have, and I do not remember?

“But those feelings, those are your strength. When I look at you, I see someone who will do everything in their power to protect those they care about, those that they love. Hold on to that. It is what makes you, you. It is what will shape you, going forward.”

It’s not the kind of answer you were expecting at all. You don’t know what to make of it at all. And it definitely hasn’t put your mind at ease.

“So...am I good? Am I bad? What am I?” you ask, your voice little more than a whisper, like the ghosts of history that haunt poor Justin. You know how much pain he is in, the turmoil that his broken mind must be under, but now that you’ve asked, _you have to know._

Justin, for his part, just smiles. It’s a kind smile, one that extends all the way up his face to his eyes as he says simply, “Would someone with a black heart ever worry that they were evil?”

You’re processing that when Pat returns. He drops to Justin’s side and helps him to his feet. “Right, I’m gunna take Justin here back to my place, and you guys should go to school. Normal, remember?”

“Sure...sure.” Your mind is spinning as Rick takes you by the arm and leads you out of the Pit Stop. You collect Beth along the way, and the three of you begin the slow walk towards school.

“Feeling better, Rick?” Beth asks, placing her goggles back into her rucksack and re-shouldering it. If she heard any of your conversation with Justin, she doesn’t let on.

Rick nods, flexing his fingers out from his palms and back. “Yeah. Just thinking about the ISA, about Henry...it just makes my blood boil. But thanks to someone, I’m beginning to learn how to keep it under control.”

He flashes you a smile and nudges you with his shoulder, but you’re only half listening. 

“Hey.” Rick places a hand carefully on your shoulder, and you manage to tear yourself away from your thoughts long enough to acknowledge him. “What was that about, with Justin?”

“I don’t...I...I just…”

“Everything okay?” This is Beth, who is looking over at the pair of you, concern and confusion in her eyes.

“Yeah, I just...have a lot on my mind right now,” you say lamely, hoping that this is enough to deter her from prying any deeper.

“Well, we’re here, if you want to talk,” she says gently. “Everything that happened last night, it’s hard to deal with. Sometimes talking it through can help.”

She’s right, you know. It’s one of the tricks you’ve been using with Rick, getting him to talk through his anger so he doesn’t feel so alone with it.

But you don’t even understand what you’re thinking right now, so you wouldn’t know how to begin to put it into words. As a result, you manage to walk all the way to school without uttering a single word to Rick or Beth. Luckily Beth can talk for America, so you don’t have to do very much work, just nod a few times to let her know you’re still listening. 

Rick keeps one hand in constant contact for the entire trip, drifting from your shoulder, down your arm, to your hand, until finally his fingertips are barely brushing yours.

Justin’s words keep replaying like a broken record in your mind. Incredible potential? Your feelings are your strength? What does any of that mean?

And can you crack the code in time for it to be helpful in the slightest?

*********

You remain ensconced within the confines of your mind throughout the entire morning, and before you know where you are it’s lunch time. You’re operating on auto-pilot, and it’s not until you sit down at the loser’s table that you realise where you are.

Rick, Beth, and Yolanda are already here. Silence has descended over them, but it’s a different kind of silence to the one you’re used to; this is a companionable silence, one where each of them is allowed their own thoughts, but with the promise of an open ear and an open heart if they have anything to share – nothing like the silence of only a few weeks prior, where none of them cared enough about the others to acknowledge that they were alive, let alone hurting.

Speaking of hurting, this is the first time since last night that you’ve seen Yolanda. Her eyes are red from crying, and she’s poking at her lunch with a plastic spork, moving it around the plate on a doomed voyage instead of eating any of it.

Of all the JSA members, she’s probably the one you’re least closest to. Not by choice; you simply don’t have as much in common with her as you do with the others. But now there’s something between you that you can relate to.

“I’m not going to ask if you’re okay,” you begin, and Yolanda sniffs and looks up, blinking away the beginnings of tears. “And I wouldn’t even dream of saying that I know what you’re going through, because I couldn’t possibly. But I know that I’m hurting, and I barely knew Henry. So I can only imagine how you feel. He was my friend, but he was so much more to you; so just know that I’m here,” you glance around the table at Rick and Beth, who are hanging off your every word, “we all are. You don’t have to go through this alone. None of us do.” 

Yolanda manages a small smile, and she dabs at her face with one of the cafeteria’s sandpaper napkins. “Thanks, guys. You’re good friends.”

You hope that the smile you fire at her looks reassuring, although it feels more like a grimace than anything else. 

Then Courtney arrives, and all thought of Henry dissipates, if only for a few minutes.

Her latest news is...well, it’s devastating for all of you. The Cosmic Staff is refusing to respond to her – her career as Stargirl is over. And to make matters worse, she’s just discovered that not only is Starman not her father, but her actual father is a piece of human garbage.

You, Beth, Rick, and Yolanda all try to reassure her, to make her feel worthy of the mantle, but the fact remains that without the staff, the JSA’s greatest weapon is off the table. 

And Courtney knows it. Her voice breaks as she speaks, tears edging her words like melted ice. “It was my fault Henry died, and it was my fault Joey Zarick was killed. I can’t have anyone else get hurt because I...I thought I was...someone I’m not. So...”

Courtney’s sentence remains incomplete, unfinished. Like your fight with the ISA.

What does this mean for her now? Is she leaving Blue Valley still? It seems like the revelations about the ISA and Jordan Mahkent in particular have helped reconcile her mom and Pat, but without the power to fight back, wouldn’t it be safer for her to leave?

What does this mean for the rest of the JSA? And, most selfishly of all – what does it mean for you?

Without Courtney, without your leader, what happens to the JSA? Without Stargirl, is there even a JSA at all?

*********

Your dark mood has only worsened after lunch, and the last thing you want to do is attend Henry’s memorial assembly. But of course, you must. For Henry’s sake, and to support your friends.

You file into some seats and suffer through Principal Bowin’s opening speech. Around you are the other students in your year, some upset, some indifferent. If only they knew who Henry truly was, you think. If only they knew the real him, how he had truly died, what he had died doing. The atmosphere in the room would be very different right now if they did.

The picture of Henry atop the auditorium stage is enough to break your heart once more; his smiling face, such a horrible contrast to the last time you saw him. The last time you’ll ever see him.

When Henry King Sr. takes the stage however, you snap back to reality. You’re now sitting in a room with a dangerous telepath. How much does he remember? You know Henry said his father had had amnesia, but Brainwave seemed to have reverted to his old self when he fought Henry in the tunnels. 

What if he’s remembered who Stargirl is?

It doesn’t take you long to get an answer; as he continues to talk, spouting platitudes about moving on and honouring Henry’s memory, you hear another voice in your mind. It’s the twin of the voice emanating from the man on stage before you, but the words you hear are totally different to those coming out of his mouth.

_“Come after us...please.”_

Brainwave’s voice in your mind is like someone reaching into your head and raking the inside of your skull with clawed fingers; it sends chills down your spine, which is bad enough, but the words themselves are more like a kick in the stomach; it feels like all of the wind has been knocked out of you, and no matter how hard you try to suck in air, your lungs refuse to take it. 

He knows. He remembers. And if he knows, then the entire ISA now know. Which means you, your friends, and your family are all in great danger.

Brainwave’s eyes travel over the four of you, taking you all in in turn. No doubt he has some personalized comments for each of your friends, who have opposed him and his team at every turn. You’re still struggling for breath when he fixates on you, head tilting to one side in confusion.

His speech onstage falters, just for a second, but he plays it off as sadness overcoming him, and continues spouting nonsense to the crowd about how awful Henry’s death is.

Then he refocuses on you, eyes narrowing, inspecting you like a laboratory specimen.

_“You. You’re...the powerless one. You might think that that makes you innocent. But you’re just as culpable as the rest of your friends for my son’s death. You and your words, you and your feelings, trying to twist him away from me. It’s your fault he’s dead. Your fault.”_

You know that his words are untrue, even if he believes them in his sick, twisted way, but that nevertheless doesn’t stop them hurting. Brainwave’s mental voice is filled with venom, poured directly into your brain like acid.

_“Your friends are all going to die because of you, you know that. And the real irony is that you’re not powerless at all. I know how powerless you feel – how pathetic. Like you’re just dragging them all down. But you’re just like my son; full of squandered potential. You don’t even know what you are, what you’re capable of._

_“And just like my son, you’ll die before you ever find out. But not before you watch all of your friends fall first.”_

*********

You flee the auditorium as soon as you’re able, quicker than if someone had pulled the fire alarm. Only when Brainwave is out of sight do you feel like you can even begin to relax.

Rick catches up with you, signaling to Yolanda, Beth, and Courtney that he’s got you in hand. They disappear into the crowds, but you can see the looks of concern on their faces up until they’re swallowed by the mass of student bodies returning to their days, unaware of how close to a murdering psychopath they all just were.

“What’s wrong?” Rick asks without preamble, pulling you into an empty classroom. You hug yourself, hands on the opposite shoulders, eyes screwed up tight. “What did he say to you?”

You can’t voice it, can’t say it out loud; you’re just being stupid, Brainwave probably gave the same kind of threat to all of your friends. 

The world spins as Rick grabs your shoulders and wrenches you around to face him, your eyes flying open in surprise. The fiercely protective look on his face is devastating, the line of his jaw hard enough to sharpen Justin’s sword on. 

“What. Did he say. To you?” he asks again, his hands tight on your shoulders.

“It was...a threat. He said you’re all going to die, and it’s going to be my fault.” Your voice is small, each word forced out through your lips against your better judgment.

“Okay, number one, screw that guy,” Rick says, releasing you and shaking his head. “Number two, we are not going to die. We are going to stop them, and kick their asses out of Blue Valley once and for all. And number three, you’re not going to get anyone killed.

“We said the same thing to Courtney – no one died because of you. Joey and Henry were killed _by the ISA_ , no one else. Their deaths are not your fault. All Brainwave’s doing is trying to plant doubt. He knows that we can stop them if we all work together, and he’s scared. That’s all it is. He thinks he can threaten us and we’ll just give up, because we’re kids. But when we stop whatever it is that they’re planning, all of us together, they’ll realise that we’re stronger than they ever dreamed we could be.”

You grip the nearest desk, trying to stop your body from shaking. “You’re right,” you say. “I know you’re right. Courtney’s going to get the Staff back, and then we’re going to stop them. I know you’re right.”

He reaches forward, sliding his hands between the loops of your arms and clutching them over your stomach. He leans his head forward, resting it just below the nape of your neck since you’re leaning forward. It’s reassuring, his body strong against yours, yours which feels so fragile right now. 

“If you know,” he whispers, “then what’s really bothering you?”

For once, you’re happy when your brain overrides the rest of you and your mouth speaks words that you’re otherwise too afraid to say.

“Twice today I’ve had someone tell me that I have potential. That there’s more to me than I know. That I don’t even know _what I am_. And that scares me – who am I, Rick? What am I?”

“You’re you,” he says simply, as if that’s all he needs to know. “You’re this...steady presence. Whatever happens, we know you’ll be here for us. You may not have any powers, but you do more for us, for me, than you could possibly know. I’d have quit this team fifty times over if it wasn’t for you. You’re this...this lynchpin that holds us together when we should all be falling apart – it’s something that you and Court have in common. And nothing Brainwave, or Justin, or anyone else can say will change that.

“If you think there’s more you can be doing, if you think there’s more to you than you know, then we’ll help you find out what that is. All of us will, together. We’re a team, we’re your friends. We’re not just going to let you go through this alone when you’ve been here for us every time we need you, and even when we don’t realise that we do.”

You let that sit for a moment, your chest swelling with pride. You knew Rick liked you, cared about you, but you had no idea of how deep that ran. And that faith he has, that level of devotion, helps you come to a decision. You’re taking back your power. You’re not going to be a liability any longer.

“I’m not sitting on the sidelines anymore, Rick,” you tell him, your voice steel. You feel him tense against you, and you spin within his arms, facing him. He’s concerned, of course, and you can see the internal battle behind his eyes as he grapples with this.

“I’m fighting. Whatever that means, whatever that looks like. I’m not going to let you guys do this without me, not anymore. You’re right – the ISA are just trying to scare us, and for a second there, I let them. But you’re right, and they’re wrong.”

Rick’s expression goes through so many changes in the next five seconds it’s hard to keep up. Concern, sadness, disappointment, reluctance, and finally, pride of his own.

“You’re right. We won’t stand in your way. Whatever happens next, we face it together.”

“Thank you for not arguing with me.”

“Of all the things you’ve taught me, not to argue with you is very high up that list,” he says with a smirk. His lips twist upwards, and you can’t hold yourself back any longer. 

The emotions within you, your connection to Rick, is overflowing like a reservoir after a storm, so you lean forward, closing the gap between you and catching his lips with your own. You feel his gasp, like an electrical current has just run between you, and your hand finds its way into his hair, pulling him closer to you, holding him fast, as if defying the world to even dream of trying to separate you.

And that’s when the door to the classroom opens, and a teacher clears his throat exaggeratedly. You and Rick pull apart, both smiling like idiots as the teacher begins to tap his foot.

“This is a classroom, not Lover’s Lane!” he exclaims as you rush past him out into the corridor. For just a moment, you managed to forget how dire the situation is.

Your enemies have issued a threat. A threat that you and your friends are going to have to rise to. You’re done being bullied, done letting them hurt and kill people you care about, done being put on the back foot by these jumped up adults who think they know anything about you.

Both an ally and an enemy have said that you have untapped potential. So maybe now it’s time to start trying to tap into it – maybe that will be what tips the scales in your favour. Maybe that will be what helps you become the hero you so desperately want to be.

Then you can stand side-by-side with Rick, with your friends, on a level playing field. And then Brainwave, Icicle, and all the rest will rue the day that they ever underestimated you, or the Justice Society of America.


	12. The Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set during the events of Stargirl 01x12 - Stars And S.T.R.I.P.E. Part One

This is just a tactical withdrawal, not a full retreat; you have to keep telling yourself that as you shove clothes and toiletries into a bag and rack your brain for anything else you might need for this impromptu overnight trip.

The ISA are on their way, and the safest place to regroup is at Pat’s cabin in the woods. It makes the most sense, you know it does, but you can’t shake the idea that, on the eve of your enemy’s deadly plan, it feels like you’re all running away.

At least not everything is bad news, you think, shouldering your bag and heading downstairs. Courtney has managed to reignite the Cosmic Staff, so she’s back in the fight; that’s fired up the rest of you even more so than before, knowing that your fearless leader is still with you all.

Explaining your surprise sleepover to your parents went surprisingly well; they were just pleased that you’d finally found some friends, and were eager for you to spend as much time with them as possible. 

If only they knew.

You look up at the wall clock, its hands moving as if they’re coated in molasses. Rick should be here in about half an hour; he’s managed to fix his dad’s car at last, so he’s going to grab Beth and Yolanda before swinging around to get you. There’s nothing left for you to do now but your least favourite thing – wait.

Of course, you can’t sit still. After less than a minute you dump your bag at the bottom of the stairs and begin pacing the house, thoughts as restless as your body. 

Something’s coming, you can feel it. Something like an ending. Your confrontation with the ISA is all but assured at this point – it’s just a matter of seeing what form it will take. And who will make it out the other side.

Five minutes pass of you threatening to wear a groove in the carpet when a knock at the door surprises you. Maybe Rick changed his plans? You check your phone, but there’s no message. Puzzled, you open the door and nearly fall over backwards.

Standing on your doormat, face twisted into a horrific sneer and clad in his green leather ISA outfit, bold as brass, is Brainwave.

“You should really check before you open the door to strangers,” he says, his voice laced with enough sarcasm to cause a fatal overdose.

“You...what are you doing here?” you gasp, backing away from him and catching up against the stairs. Your ankle slams into the bottom step and slides out from under you, leaving you sprawled out across the steps as Brainwave walks unimpeded into your house, peering around with obvious distaste.

“A few last minute visits seemed appropriate,” he muses, stepping closer. “There’s no way that you can disrupt our plans now, not at this late stage. But it always pays to prepare.

“Sportsmaster and Tigress are on their way to kill Stargirl and her stepfather as we speak. With them dead, the rest of you will be directionless, easy to pick off once our project comes to fruition.”

Curiosity and panic war in your mind, and curiosity wins the day, if momentarily. Your heart in your throat, fear flooding your body, you manage to ask: “So what are you doing here? You said it yourself, I don’t have any powers. I’m no threat to you.” 

At this, Brainwave’s sneer intensifies. “This is personal,” he explains. “Of all of you little miscreants, it was you and Stargirl that reached out to my son the most. That poisoned his mind against me. That pushed him away, and forced me to do what I did. So now, as punishment, I’m going to _break you._ ”

He doesn’t seem inclined to explain anything else, and before you can question him further, or turn and flee, or any of the other hundred things you’re contemplating, a shooting pain tears through your mind as if Brainwave has rammed a steel spike into your skull.

You scream and clutch at your head, trying to hold it together, as if mere physical pressure could stop your mind from shattering. It now feels like someone has placed a vice around your cranium, and is winding it tighter and tighter with every passing second.

Brainwave’s voice echoes through the pain, clear as crystal. “This is just a taste of what I can do to you. If I had the time, I would make this last days, weeks. You deserve all this and more for what you and Stargirl did to my son.”

“I didn’t do anything to Henry! I was just trying to help him! To save him from becoming like you!” you shout, and then scream even louder than before as the pain in your mind redoubles. All of your nerve endings burn, everything is pain, everything is red, and you fall forward, clutching at your forehead even as your limbs begin to flail uncontrollably.

_“Other than Jordan, I can’t remember the last time I came across a true metahuman. It’s almost a shame to kill you without further study. I’m sure Doctor Ito will be disappointed. No matter. Metahuman or not, it won’t save you now,”_ Brainwave observes, and that word resonates through you, like he’s spoken your true name, the name that describes your place in the universe absolutely; perhaps less of a name and more of a statement of identity.

Metahuman? You’ve heard the term during your discussions with Pat, Beth, and Chuck regarding the JSA and their enemies. They’re people with...special abilities. Some of them are born with them. Some of them have their powers activated later in life, by trauma, or experimentation. 

People like the Flash, or the Sandman. Like the Shade, or Brainwave himself. 

And, apparently...you?

But, like Brainwave said, it doesn’t matter now. The pain in your head is almost unbearable, your throat is raw from screaming. You don’t have powers. You’re not special. There’s nothing you can do to stop Brainwave tearing your mind in twain.

You just want it to stop, you just need it to all end. And you know it will, very, very soon.

The faces of all the people you care about float past your mind’s eye, your actual eyes screwed up tight as if to try and help stem the flow of pain through your brain. 

Your parents. Your brother. The family that you adore, that you know have always cared for you.

Courtney. Pat. Beth. Yolanda. You’ve only just found them, and now you’re being taken away. It’s just not fair, you think. You had so much more to learn from each other, so many more years of friendship to enjoy.

And, of course, Rick. His face is the strongest, the brightest, outlined in pure white. He’s smiling, something that he doesn’t do very often, but that is always glorious to behold when he does. 

You’ve fought so hard for him, to be with him. But now Brainwave’s going to take all that away. You hope that your death doesn’t destroy all the progress Rick’s made, send him back into the person he was. But Courtney and the others will be there – they’ll get him through this. Your death won’t break him.

At least you’ll be able to see Henry again, you think, the darkness bleaching white as you feel your brain finally giving out. And maybe you can find Rick’s parents, and Starman, and the other JSA members. You can tell them all that you tried.

All the people that your friends have lost. All the people that they loved, that they’ll never get to see again. And now you’ll be counted among their number…

Rick’s face appears, one last time, for just a split second. He’s frowning, a much more common expression, but his mouth quirks up at one side into a smirk. “You can do better than this, right?” his phantom voice asks. “Are you really about to just give up?”

Your mind’s eye somehow blinks, confused by the question.

_Are_ you about to just give up and die?

The ISA have taken so much already. And they keep thinking that they can take more, and more, and more, until you all just roll over and submit. They think that they can make you one more in a long line of casualties.

No. 

No more. 

Absolutely not.

It’s like a switch within your mind has flown open, and you feel yourself take a massive deep breath in, as if you’ve been slowly suffocating your entire life and this is the first true breath of air that you’ve ever managed to take.

Your friends and family’s faces zoom past again, and this time you feel your heart begin to ache; unlike your head, it’s not painful; more of a physical manifestation of the love that you feel for them all.

That ache builds, greater and greater, until you feel as if your chest is going to burst from how much you care for all these people. The love in your heart is keeping you alive, and it is stronger than any kind of mental torment that Brainwave can throw your way.

“No more,” you whisper, and you can hear Brainwave chuckling to himself, somewhere very far away. 

“No more? I think not. This is what you deserve.”

“No. More!” 

You wrench yourself to your feet, your emotions bursting forth from you, a physical shockwave of pure white energy that emanates outwards, slamming into Brainwave and sending him end-over-end, careening out of the doorway and skidding across your front lawn.

Your mind is clear, the pain gone now that Brainwave’s connection has been broken. You struggle to the doorway, looking out to see where he landed. Where you threw him.

You’re surprised to see him already getting to his feet, dusting himself off. He looks back at you with something like...is that pride in his eyes? 

“Untapped potential. I told you. All you needed was a little nudge.” He telekinetically lifts himself into the sky and floats away into the night without another word.

You sink to the doorstep, eyes wide, one hand on your forehead and the other over your heart, thoughts pinballing around your still-pounding head. 

_What was that?_ And, more importantly perhaps, _could you do it again?_

*********

You’re still on the step, lost in thought, when Rick arrives. You vaguely hear the Mustang’s engine cut out, followed by his approaching footsteps.

You have a decision to make, you realise quickly. Do you tell him about what you did? About what you are? Or do you keep it quiet?

On the one hand, Rick could help you figure it out. All of your friends could. Most of them have powers of some sort. They could help you through this. They’d be happy to, given how you’ve helped them with their problems.

On the other, there’s already enough to worry about right now. You’re basically about to go to war. Do Rick and the others have time to deal with your internal crisis when there’s a much bigger one looming? 

And who’s to say that you can even do what you did again? Maybe it was a fluke, a one-off, unrepeatable.

No. Best not to worry anyone. Keep it to yourself for now and if you all manage to survive the ISA’s plan, then you can broach the subject. Surprise last minute superpowers aren’t exactly a high priority right now.

You plaster on a smile as Rick reaches you, looking down quizzically. “You okay? What’re you doing out here?” 

“It felt claustrophobic inside,” you say quickly. “I just kept pacing, so I came out for some fresh air.”

Rick’s brow furrows for a second, but he doesn’t question you. “You ready to go?” he asks, extending a hand to help you up.

“Sure, let me get my bag.”

You reach up and take his hand, and gasp in shock as a rush of emotions nearly knocks you back to the doorstep.

Fear. Worry. Concern. And an undercurrent of anger, bubbling just beneath the surface.

These aren’t your feelings. They feel different, like how even familiar food tastes different when someone else prepares it for you. It takes a moment for you to realise where they’re coming from – Rick. This is what Rick is feeling right now. You’re reading his emotions, through your contact with him.

“Hey, whoa. You sure you’re alright?” he asks as you join him on your feet, wobbling unsteadily.

You brush him off with a quick smile. “Just got up too quick, head rush.” You dart back inside your house to collect your bag before he can press, and then you’re in the back seat of the Mustang with Yolanda, Beth having already called shotgun, and Rick in the driver’s seat.

It’s a fairly quiet ride; none of you have much to say right now, all consumed with your own thoughts and worries about the upcoming battle. Even Beth, usually unable to stay silent, isn’t doing much talking. An occasional whisper to Chuck is all you get out of her.

You catch Rick looking at you in the rear view mirror more than once, but you do your best to smile reassuringly and his eyes dart away as if he’s been caught looking at something he shouldn’t have.

You welcome the silence. It gives you time to try and process all that has happened in the last hour. 

If Brainwave is to be believed, which is dubious at best, then you are a metahuman. You have _actual superpowers._ You read Rick’s emotions when you touched him. You used your own as a weapon to force Brainwave out of your house.

This is big, you realise. Sure, it’s no Cosmic Staff or hour of super-strength, but it's an actual superpower. You’ve said that you don’t want to sit on the sidelines any more, that you want to fight, and now, inadvertently, your enemies have unlocked the power within you to do just that.

*********

A few hours later, and everyone has mostly settled in for the night. The air in the cabin is sombre as you all try your best to get some rest, but no one is ready for sleep when you know the ISA could be on their way at any time.

If they found Courtney and Pat, (and you, although no one knows about that yet) there’s no telling whether they’ll be able to find you here or not. 

You’re doing a quick circle of the cabin, just checking in on everyone; it makes you feel like you’re being helpful, even if all it’s really doing is keeping you occupied.

Plus, you have an ulterior motive. A quick pat on the shoulder, or a hug, and you’ll be able to see if you can read your friends’ emotions the way you did with Rick back at your house.

Since that time you’ve avoided coming into contact with anyone, slightly afraid of what will happen, for multiple reasons – what if your power works, and you find out something you don’t want to know? Or what if it doesn’t work?

At least it gives you something else to worry about alongside all of the other things you’re worrying about. But your emotions aren’t the ones you’re most concerned about right now.

You start in the kitchen, catching Yolanda grabbing a carton of juice from the fridge. You collect a glass from one of the cupboards and hold it out to her, your fingers touching just briefly as she takes it from you.

You brace yourself for the rush of emotions, and this time you manage to suppress your gasp. Yolanda is a cloud of grief, all of her other feelings encased within it like fog. Despite her brave face, it’s clear that Henry’s death is still affecting her – which is unsurprising; it’s never far from your mind either.

“Thanks,” she murmurs, lost in thought and none the wiser to what you’ve just discovered. You smile as she departs, an idea suddenly dawning on you. You fill a tray of glasses with juice and head out in search of everyone else.

This is the perfect pretense to speak to everyone; the chicken that Justin brought was greasy and delicious, but full of salt, so passing out glasses of juice is a totally normal thing to be doing, and not just a hastily constructed cover for testing your burgeoning powers.

Beth is on one of the comfy looking couches upstairs, and she smiles a big smile as she takes her glass from you, your hands touching for just a moment. Her smile belies the deep concern she’s hiding beneath it. Her emotions are strong, singular – she feels things with her entire being; you have that in common.

You locate the Dugan/Whitmore family out on the front porch, Pat and Barbara on one of the benches, Courtney leaning over the railing surrounding the raised balcony, and Mike sitting on the ground with Max. 

“You read my mind,” Pat says unironically, taking a glass for himself and Barbara from the tray before you can hand it to him. His mind wasn’t what you were going for, but he’s not to know that. Your plan is foiled, but the way Pat and Barbara are looking at each other tells you that you’re probably just going to sense a whole lot of love from those two anyway.

You lean down and hand Mike his glass. He looks at it skeptically. Mike Dugan’s always a hard one to read at the best of times – the situations he has been forced to endure growing up have made him much more mature than your typical middle schooler, but at his core he is still a child. 

His emotions tell you the same thing – part of him finds all of this super cool, but his excitement is tinged with doubt; doubt about his dad putting himself in danger, about all these secrets he’s been keeping. And, you’re both surprised and pleased to discover, he’s worried about Courtney and Barbara too.

Out of curiosity, you also lay your hand on Max’s head. He nuzzles into your touch, and you can feel the waves of happiness coming off of him. Dog emotions are simple, as you’d expect; he’s just happy to be included, and to get all this fuss. The night air is full of fun smells for him, and the scent of chicken scraps is still driving him wild. So, your power works on animals too. Maybe that’ll come in handy one day?

Time for a new test, you think, straightening up. So far, everyone you’ve touched has divulged their emotions without any prompting from you. But can you still touch people without finding out what they’re feeling? 

You place another glass of juice on the wooden railing, and Courtney looks up gratefully. “Lifesaver,” she says, a small smile playing about her lips. Her eyes are still focused out into the darkness, constantly vigilant. You can’t blame her – after being attacked in your own home, you know exactly how she feels.

“Hey, Court?” you ask as she goes to turn away. “Can I just say something?”

“Huh? Sure, of course. What’s up?” 

“I just wanted to say thank you, for including me in all this. I know it wasn’t really your choice when Rick told me about you all, but I’m really glad I found you guys, and that I get to be a part of all this.” 

“We wouldn’t want it any other way. You’re family now.”

“Whether you like it or not,” Mike adds from the floor, now laying on his back while Max tries to slobber all over his face.

You exchange a grin with Courtney and then open your arms for a hug. She’s momentarily surprised, then she mirrors you, your arms clasping around each other quickly.

As you make contact, you concentrate as hard as you can on not reading her emotions. You feel yourself tense, which must make for an extremely stiff hug, but Courtney doesn’t comment.

More importantly, you don’t get a reading off her at all. Test successful. Plus, you got a hug out of it, so that’s always nice.

“I’ve got two more deliveries to make, then I think I’m going to try and get some sleep,” you tell her. 

“Good luck. Good night? I dunno. We’ll wake you if we figure anything out.”

Retreating back into the house, you head upstairs to find Justin and Rick deep in conversation about Rick’s father’s journal. As they speak, you lay the final two glasses on the table next to them. You’re done experimenting with your powers for now – and besides, you can already tell what both of them are thinking from their conversation. 

Rick is pissed, and worried; so much is riding on him cracking this journal, you can only imagine the pressure. And Justin is confused, but eager to assist in any way he can. You’re glad he found you all as well – having a purpose again other than just cleaning toilets has helped focus his mind more than it has been in years.

You leave them both to it and find an empty bedroom. The bed is large, fluffy, and comfortable; you don’t expect to get much sleep, not with all of the additional insanity that has happened in the last few hours, but discovering your new powers must have drained you more than you realise because as soon as your head hits the pillow you’re fast asleep.

*********

The sound of the bedroom door sliding open brings you reluctantly back to consciousness. You blink through bleary eyes and look up to see Rick standing in the doorway, the biggest, most earnest smile you’ve ever seen on his face.

His hair is a tangle from all the times he’s run his hand through it in frustration, and his eyes are bright and sparkling despite the late hour. His smile seems to permeate his entire body, making him stand up straighter, his hands almost vibrating where they’re holding the doorframe.

“I did it,” he says simply, and you’re awake at once, curling your legs under you to make room for him on the bed.

“You did? You cracked the code? Rick, that’s brilliant!”

“It was the car – my dad’s old 1966 Mustang. Pat gave me the nudge I needed, and that was it. Once I used 1966, the code basically cracked itself. Beth’s analysing the results with Chuck now, but I think we’re really onto something here. This could be what gives us the edge.”

“I knew you could do it. I always knew you could,” you tell him as he sits down beside you. One leg is bobbing with excitement, up and down like a Morse Code machine on steroids, tapping out a message of victory on the floorboards.

“This is it, you know,” Rick says, turning serious. “If this means what I think it means, then we’re going to face the ISA head-on. This is really it.”

“I know,” you reply, your voice growing quiet. Even without your new powers, you can tell where this conversation is going.

Rick runs a hand through his hair once again, strands of it curling around his ears adorably. “I don’t really know the best way to say this, so I’m just gunna say it. I know you want to fight with us. I know you said that you weren’t going to sit back anymore. But I still don’t think it’s safe for you to come with us. I think you should stay here.”

You blink, very slowly, weighing up your options. You could argue. You could fight. You could say you’re staying and then go anyway. Or...you could tell the truth. Really, the fact that you’ve managed to keep it from everyone, especially Rick, for this long is kind of a miracle.

“I had a feeling you might say that,” you say calmly, and Rick seems to visibly relax, as if he had been readying himself for a fight. “But I have something to tell you that might change your mind...”

You give him a quick rundown of the last few hours; how Brainwave attacked you, how you felt the power within you unlocking. How you’ve been experimenting, trying to see what you’re capable of. 

Rick’s quiet once you finish; it’s not an angry quiet, though you’d have understood that. No, this is a thoughtful quiet as he mulls all this new information over.

“When were you going to tell me about all this?” he asks finally.

“When there was time. With the ISA so close to whatever it is they’re planning, I didn’t want to burden you, any of you, with more of my problems. I thought I could handle it on my own for now.”

Rick shakes his head, but again it’s unexpectedly sad rather than angry. “You know you can trust me with anything. You’re not a burden, you never are. You don’t need to keep stuff like this from us. None of us have to go it alone anymore. That’s what the JSA is for. And you especially don’t have to keep stuff from me – that’s what boyfriends are for.”

“I know. You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Now Rick manages to smile. “First time I’ve heard you say that I’m right in a while,” he says. He reaches out to take your hand, and you let him. Surprisingly, no emotions bleed across your connection. It seems that it takes physical concentration to activate your powers, which is nice. Having to constantly worry about reading someone you didn’t want to read wasn’t something you’d been looking forward to.

“I’m not mad, by the way,” Rick says. “I feel like I should be. But I’m not. I get trying to handle things on your own. I’m just glad you’re alright – facing off with Brainwave like that? That’s badass, you know?”

“If he’d left me alone, I might never have found out about...this. About what I am. What I can do.”

“It’ll be his fault when we all put a stop to him and the rest of the ISA then,” Rick says, confidence growing.

“Can I come with you all now then? Now that I can protect myself?”

Rick thinks about this for a second, then smiles mischievously. “While I don’t doubt your super-awesome new powers, I feel like a demonstration is in order. Show what you can do, hot shot.”

“I’m so glad you didn’t say ‘you show me yours, and I’ll show you mine,’ or I might have had to break up with you on the spot,” you blurt out, and Rick rolls over onto his back, laughing at the ceiling.

“You think I’m letting you break up with me now? When we could be the JSA’s first power couple? Fat chance. You’re stuck with me now, whether you like it or not.”

You shake your head. Rick’s suddenly a comedian. But him calling you a couple, calling himself your boyfriend, secretly fills you with joy. 

“Alright. The whole emotion-reading thing is a passive kind of power – not much good in a fight. I’ve not practiced the other side much; I was scared I might hurt someone, or myself. But if you’re here, I can probably give it a try.”

Rick sits back up to attention. “Whatever you need.” 

“Just...stay with me, and let me concentrate.”

You quickly look around the room – your empty glass of juice is sitting on the dresser. That’ll do perfectly. You look over at Rick, who shoots you a thumbs up and a grin. “You got this.”

Then you close your eyes, searching within yourself for that well of power you tapped into before, probing through your subconscious as well as your physical body. As you do so, you grapple your emotions into line – if they truly are how you control your power, then you need to control them first, logically.

You hold your hand out, palm slightly raised, pointed at the glass, and concentrate on how you feel. 

Concerned. Worried. Fearful. But defiant. Ready to fight to the end.

You open your eyes and try to push your emotions outwards, willing something to happen. But nothing does. There’s no energy wave. The glass remains where it is. It doesn’t even wobble.

“I don’t...I don’t get it,” you say, looking down at your hand as if it has personally offended you. “It was just a crazy storm of emotions before, when I felt like I was dying. I thought being able to concentrate better would make it easier, not harder.”

“Hey.” Rick has scooted closer to you on the bed, and now he reaches out and takes your spare hand again. “Take it easy. Maybe it only works when you’re stressed.”

“I’m super stressed right now, Rick!” You can hear the panic in your voice, but you can’t stop yourself. “I thought I could do this! I can feel what everyone else feels – why are my powers tied to my own emotions instead? Who’s stupid idea was that?”

“Take a breath,” he says, still as a lake on a spring day. “Focus. Try again. I believe in you.”

Then he reaches over and plants a kiss on your cheek, quick as a flash.

Your heart burns with love, just for an instant, and you gasp “Oh!” as a small ball of energy erupts from your still-outstretched hand, pinging across the room into the glass and knocking it to the floor with a thud.

You turn back to Rick, pointing enthusiastically. “I did it! I did it!”

He laughs triumphantly, punching the air. “You sure as hell did. That’s awesome!” Then he stops mid-laugh, suddenly worried. “Wait, am I going to have to kiss you every time you want to attack during a fight? Because that might get a bit awkward.”

“You dork.” You swat at him, and he rolls away from you. “I guess it’s not just controlling my emotions. It’s about...feeling things super strongly? Like how mad I was at Brainwave, or how much I love you.”

You stop. A silence falls between you and Rick, which begins to stretch uncomfortably. You’ve never said those words out loud before. You know they’re true, they have been for a while. But they’ve never been spoken into the world.

Sitting here though, with Rick, literally hours away from what could potentially be the end of the world? There’s no better time.

Rick is looking at you, his expression unreadable. In a passive voice, he asks, “Did you mean that? You didn’t just say it, I dunno, by accident or something?”

“No,” you tell him, and you’ve never been so sure of anything in your entire life. “It’s true. I love you, Rick Tyler.”

A grin slowly spreads across Rick’s face, like a wave at a beach crashing forth, changing the landscape forever. He laughs to himself, and you can see the first hit of happy tears at the edge of his eyes, which brings forth some in your own. He blinks, water hanging on the end of his eyelashes like morning dew. “I never thought I’d hear someone say that about me,” he admits, and you feel your heart crack, just a tiny bit. “I didn’t think it was on the cards, the way my life was going. But now I have all these friends, and I have you. I know who my dad was, who I am. Because of Courtney, and because of you.

“What I’m trying to say is,” he says, taking both your hands and pulling you towards him gently, “is that I love you, too.”

“Oh, Rick,” is all you can manage, before your lips touch and words aren’t needed any longer. You both fall sideways to the bed, mouths and bodies moving in sync. You nearly laugh as you realise Rick still tastes like chicken, but nothing can spoil this moment, not even that.

He has one hand in your hair, and the other tugging at the hem of his sweatshirt, trying to pull it over his head. An enormous part of you wants to help him – but there’s a small, nagging feeling in the back of your mind that knows this isn’t the right time. Saying you love him is one thing; but the next step on from that...that’s something else entirely.

You place your hand over his, stilling the movement. Rick opens his eyes and draws back, looking confused. “I’m sorry, am I going too fast? I thought this was what you wanted.”

“I do, Rick. I really do.” You both sit back up; Rick looks a little wounded, but hopefully your explanation will be enough to ease the pain. You wish you could use your powers to explain to him how _you_ feel, rather than just reading his feelings.

“I want nothing else in the world than to spend the night with you, right now. To throw away all our responsibilities, all our superpowers and world ending crises, and just be us, together, as close as we can be.”

“So, what’s the big deal? Have you not done it before? Because I haven’t, either. It’s no big deal.”

You smile at that. So caring, so kind, so considerate. The Rick that so many people don’t see, beneath the anger. He and Henry were more alike than either of them knew.

“No. I mean, no, I haven’t done it before, but that’s not it. I just don’t want this to be some kind of...end of the world thing. Doing it because we don’t think we’re going to come back from all this, and we won’t ever get another chance.”

“That is a bit of a mood killer,” Rick admits, shrugging his sweatshirt back down. “So what you’re saying is, not no, just not now?”

“Exactly. When we come back from this. When we win. When we have all the time in the world to take it slow, to really enjoy it. Is that...okay?”

You can feel the familiar blush returning to your cheeks; you can’t remember the last time you blushed around Rick, but you feel like that insecure person again, back on the football field at school, unsure of whether you should speak to him or not.

But, to Rick’s eternal credit, he just shakes his head, his eyes as bright as the smile on his face. “More than okay. I get it. Kind of a...victory celebration, instead of a last ditch effort. I kinda like that, actually. Something to look forward to.”

Then he stands up, stretching, and changes the subject as if he can tell how embarrassed you feel. “So, what are you going to wear? I don’t suppose you’ve had a chance to put together a superhero costume, and as far as I know there weren’t any heroes with powers like yours on the old JSA.”

“I had a thought about that, actually. I had this made for a different reason, but I think it’ll work, for now.” You cross the room and collect your overnight bag, placing it on the bed and rummaging around for something. 

You pull out a letterman jacket, blue and gold, decorated with the Blue Valley High logo. You read the name you’ve had printed on it, and smile sadly to yourself before turning it around to face Rick.

His eyes go wide, just for a moment. “That’s...wow. You had that made?”

“I’m sure he had loads at home, but it didn’t feel right to take one. I was going to leave it on his grave, when this all blew over. But I want to wear it when we face the ISA. It’ll be like he’s still here with us, going into battle with us, even if he can’t physically be here.”

“That’s...that’s amazing,” Rick says, scratching at his forehead as if he’s not sure what else to say. “I didn’t know the guy very well, but I think he’d like that.”

And that is how you find yourself in the tunnels below Blue Valley, clad in your battle armour; a letterman jacket with Henry King Jr.’s name emblazoned on the back, with Wildcat, the Shining Knight, and Hourman at your side.

Of course, you knew this wasn’t going to be easy. Fighting for your life, for your friends, was never going to be. When the stakes are revealed, when the true depths of depravity that the ISA are willing to go to comes to light, you steel yourself, ready to do whatever it takes to win the day.

Your emotions surge within you like a tempestuous sea, crashing and smashing over each other, ready to fuel your new powers as best they can.

You have thirty minutes to save twenty five million people from death, and seventy five million from irreversible brainwashing.

Thirty minutes to determine whether you’re good enough to stand beside the heroes that you call your friends. You can’t afford to fail here – too much is riding on this. You have to win. You have to stop the ISA, whatever the cost. 

No pressure, right?


	13. A Difference

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set during the events of Stargirl 01x13 - Stars & S.T.R.I.P.E Part Two

The tunnels beneath Blue Valley are certainly not your favourite place in town. The last time you were here was because you were captured by the Dragon King, an experience you don’t feel like repeating any time soon, and that’s without even contemplating the still-raw wound that is Henry’s death. 

And now you’re back again. The ISA’s brainwashing device is somewhere down here, and if you and the rest of the Justice Society can’t find and destroy it in the next half an hour, then twenty five million adults are going to die, and another seventy five million are going to fall victim to Brainwave’s mental manipulation.

Thankfully, some quick thinking on Beth and Chuck’s part has saved the adults on your team. Sir Justin is as close to his old self as he can be, and you can hear Pat’s voice again over the comms, which lets you breathe a sigh of relief; the last thing you need is the ISA in control of STRIPE.

Now back on track, you march through the corridors towards the Dragon King’s inner sanctum and the impending battle. As you turn a corner Yolanda pulls you aside, letting Rick and Justin go on ahead. 

“You’re keeping an eye on Rick, right?” she whispers, her voice the only other sound in the corridor other than your friends’ muffled footsteps. “You heard what he was saying before, about finding Grundy after all this is over?”

You nod solemnly. “Yeah, I heard him. I’ve heard him say it before, and we’ve talked about it. He won’t do anything stupid, I don’t think. And if he does, I’ll be there. I’m not letting him out of my sight.”

Yolanda considers that for a moment, then nods herself. “Good. I can’t be everywhere at once, and I don’t think I could stop him even if I wanted to. I feel like if you’re there though, he’ll be able to keep himself under control.”

You don’t like that term; Rick’s not your pet, you’re not here to pull on his leash when he does something he shouldn’t. But you can’t deny that you’re a calming influence. Hopefully it won’t come to that.

“I’m glad he found you,” Yolanda says then, taking you by surprise. “I know we’re all a little lost, and a little broken, but I feel like he needed someone the most out of all of us; he’s the only one with any real tie to the original JSA, so all of this stuff is even more personal for him, you know?”

“We kind of found each other,” you admit, blushing slightly and hoping that the gloom of the corridor will keep Yolanda from detecting it. “But I’m glad, too.”

Yolanda grows quiet for a second, and you think she’s listening for approaching footsteps or something until she turns back to you awkwardly, her face contorted in discomfort. “Can I ask...I don’t know how to...why are you wearing that?” She points at your letterman jacket, and you instantly feel self-conscious, trying to shrug it off your shoulders.

“I can take it off, if you want. I had it made for a memorial, but if it’s making you uncomfortable...” What an idiot – you hadn’t even thought about how seeing Henry’s name again might affect Yolanda, too wrapped up in your own grief to consider her feelings; for someone whose powers are all about emotions, you’re perhaps not as perceptive as you’d like to think. 

But then she surprises you again, shaking her head. “No, keep it on. It’s...it’s right that he’s here, in some way. Like he’s still helping us, even if he can’t anymore.”

You try to give her a reassuring smile, and she catches your shoulder with a gloved hand, squeezing slightly. “You’re a good friend,” she says suddenly. “It’s good, that you’re down here with us. Although you could have told us about your powers before now. There’s fashionably late, and then there’s too late to join the party.”

“I know, I know,” you sigh. “I should really know by now that keeping secrets isn’t the way to go.”

“Hey, I get it. It’s not easy, finding out things about yourself that you didn’t know before. But we’re all in this together. We’ll help you through it.”

“If we survive all this,” you say, indicating the corridor, and the danger that no doubt lies beyond.

“We will. We have to.”

You lapse into silence after that, not really sure what else to say, and the two of you hurry to catch up with Rick and Justin as they enter the main chamber. You can see your old cell across the way; if Cindy’s still in hers, she’s not saying anything. The braziers are still lit, flames crackling like exotic dancers; the ISA have been here recently, if they aren’t still here somewhere. For now, there’s no one to be seen.

A loud stomping echoes from across the room, and you see Stargirl and STRIPE enter from the opposite corridor, STRIPE having to duck to ensure his enormous head doesn’t slam into the ceiling.

“Court!” Yolanda shouts as you all reconvene in the centre of the room. “No one’s here!”

“Yeah,” Courtney says, looking around at you all. “Everyone okay?”

“All good,” Rick supplies, looking around in case of an ambush. “So where’s this machine?”

Courtney scans the room as well, spotting a non-descript door between some columns with a peculiar keypad next to it. She waves you all over. “According to the map, it’s through here.”

The sound of footsteps reaches your ears, followed by a familiar voice laughing. “Well, look what we’ve got here.” 

You’re not alone any longer. The battle is about to begin. 

Courtney, Yolanda, and Justin return to the centre of the room, while Rick lingers at the keypad. He reaches out and grabs your hand before you can head back.

“Are you ready for this?” he asks, fixing you with a stare. He cuts an impressive figure in his Hourman costume, but you can still see his eyes behind his mask; even suited up, he’s still Rick.

If he’s here, you can do it. Whatever it takes.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” you say, raising your fists. You concentrate, searching yourself for the power you’re going to need. You’re not surprised to find that your overwhelming emotion right now is fear, but that’ll do just fine.

Rick nods, reaching a gloved hand up and flipping his hourglass over. You see him take a deep breath, and it’s almost as if the power makes him stand up straighter, hold himself with more certainty. This is his birthright, after all. Yellow energy spreads out across the surface of his suit, and he makes a noise of surprise, like he’s just jumped into an ice cold lake. “Alright. Here we go.”

From the tunnel you entered from, you see the Injustice Society arrive. Icicle leads the way; his usual calm demeanour and spiffy business suit have been discarded in favour of a manic grin and more casual attire. Behind him are Sportsmaster, Tigress, and the Dragon King, all poised and ready for a fight.

You take your place with the others, facing off against your foes.

“That’s as far as you go,” Icicle says matter-of-fact. 

“No more ice mask, Jordan?” Courtney taunts. 

But Icicle is unfazed, shrugging in response. “I’ve got nothing to hide any more...Courtney.”

Sportsmaster continues to laugh like a hyena. “Anyone else have deja vu?”

Tigress, his equally as insane wife, answers him in a voice tinged with sadistic amusement. “I do. Wasn’t that a fun night?”

“Time to kill the JSA again!” Sportsmaster finishes.

This has been a long time coming, you think. It all comes down to this. If you can’t stop the ISA here and now, then nothing else you’ve done will mean anything, powers or no powers. Your fear bubbles within you like a witches’ cauldron coming to boil, but you tamp it down as best you can as your foes run towards you. 

And then the battle is on, and there is no room for any of your fears or doubts any longer.

*********

The first thing you realise about supervillain battles is that they’re _frantic_. Everywhere you look is movement as your friends and enemies engage each other at dizzying speeds.

You’re not sure what to do, who to help. You don’t want to throw yourself into harm’s way, but you also don’t want to leave your friends to fend for themselves, either. 

Indecision roots you to the spot, and your head swivels from side to side like an overstimulated puppy.

Blasts of ice fly from Icicle’s hands at blinding speed, answered by Courtney’s Cosmic Staff in rapid return. A crossbow bolt hurls itself towards Yolanda from Tigress’s weapon, but a slice of her claws knocks the shaft from the air easily. Off to the side, the Shining Knight and the Dragon King are engaged in a swordfight, blades shimmering through the air like opposing currents on a fast-running river.

And then you see Sportsmaster shoulder check Rick, sending him flying clear across the room, and you know instantly where you need to be.

You cross the battlefield in seconds, faster than you thought it was possible for you to move, until you’re standing over Rick’s fallen body as Sportsmaster advances towards him, intent on landing a finishing blow.

You can hear Rick’s laboured breathing behind you; he’s still conscious, but Sportsmaster’s attack must have winded him.

“And what are you supposed to be? Hourman’s sidekick?” Sportsmaster taunts, pointing at you with the end of his baseball bat. “Or is he _your boyfriend?_ ” 

It’s a schoolyard taunt; Sportmaster is just trying to get a rise out of you, you know that. You can’t see his face behind his hockey mask, but you can feel the smug sneer from here; he’s not taking you seriously.

That won’t happen more than once.

Your mind races back to the night you found out about Rick, about the Justice Society; he had arrived on your back porch, bloody and beaten, because of Sportsmaster. The image of that bruise on Rick’s ribs still haunts your nightmares, but right now it’s exactly the mental image you need. You remember how seeing that had made you feel, how you had ached to help Rick, even when you had no idea what was going on, or why he was wearing a strange superhero costume. 

And only a few hours before now, Sportmaster went after Pat as well. He still bears the bruises and cuts from that encounter; if it wasn’t for Mike, Pat would have died, and another one of your friends would have lost a father.

Sportsmaster has hurt your friends, the people you love, and sent Rick rushing into your arms. In an odd way, if it wasn’t for Sportsmaster, you might not be standing here today. But you are, and you’re going to make sure he regrets ever touching the people that you care about.

“Yeah, he is,” you shout back, and Sportsmaster laughs like a madman. “And nobody hurts my boyfriend.”

“Oh yeah? And what are you going to do about it? Throw a football at me?” He points at your letterman jacket. “Because I might have to sue you for copying my schtick, if you do.”

“I’ve got something much better than footballs.”

“Can’t throw nothin’ with broken ribs,” Sportsmaster shouts, and his baseball bat whips out, colliding with the side of your torso before you can dodge it. 

Pain spiderwebs through your ribcage as you’re knocked to the ground a few feet away from Rick. Nothing’s broken, thankfully, but it’s definitely going to hurt in the morning. Rick reaches out a hand towards you, shouting your name, but he’s too far away to touch. The anguish in his eyes is awful to behold, and makes you squint with pain almost as much as your now bruised ribs.

Sportsmaster steps between you both, chuckling darkly. “Gotta say, not impressed. What do they call you, the Human Shield? Because you’re not even any good at that. One whack, and you’re down for the count? Let’s do another one, just in case.”

You only have time to shout “No!” before the bat swings down again, cracking into your kneecap this time. More pain radiates out from the impact point; you’re lucky that one didn’t cripple you.

“Stop it! Leave them alone! Fight _me_ , damn it!” Rick is struggling to his feet, he’s on his hands and knees, but Sportsmaster turns and slams a steel-capped boot into his abdomen, forcing the air out of him again. Rick lands with a gasp, and then he stops moving.

“No! Rick, no!” You edge across the floor, trying to reach him despite the pain in your side and your leg. “Get away from him!”

“You volunteering to go first? I don’t have a problem – killing JSA members is what we do best.” Sportsmaster towers over you, both hands on the baseball bat careening down towards you, ready to crack your skull in half like an egg.

At the edge of your peripheral vision you see Rick’s eyes flutter open – he’s still with you. This isn’t over yet. In fact, this is just beginning. You feel the power within you flare to life, Sportsmaster’s taunts and his vicious disregard for the people you love fueling the fire.

You hear Rick shout your name again, but you’re not worried any longer; you’ve got this. You’re not sure how, but you know you’ve got this. You raise a hand and catch the baseball bat in mid-air, white energy tinged with red bleeding out from between your fingers as you make contact.

Sportmaster’s eyes widen in shock, a comical sight because of his mask, and then you push back on the baseball bat, knocking him off-balance.

“Stay away from my friends!” you shout, flinging your opposite hand out towards him. A ball of energy blossoms into being, much larger than the one you created during your target practice back at the cabin, and it strikes Sportstmaster in the chest. He grunts in pain, and the force of the impact drives him from his feet, sending him crashing into the metal table that Brainwave had been laying on a few days before.

You clamber awkwardly to your feet, your injuries protesting the whole way, and extend a hand to Rick; he grabs it, pulling himself upright and dusting himself off. “Impressive,” he says, nodding in approval. “And I didn’t even need to kiss you.”

“Talk later, fight now,” you manage to say, and Rick raises his fists in response, just in time to see Icicle readying a blast of ice to launch at Courtney. Rick’s fist rockets out, colliding with the villain’s chest and sending him cannonballing into the opposite wall. 

You both turn back towards the frenzy, searching for the next threat. Your side and kneecap pulse, but the adrenaline of battle pushes the pain down; you can deal with that when you have the luxury, which is absolutely not right now.

As you watch however, you see that the battle is almost over. Stargirl scythes through the room, the Cosmic Staff anchoring her in midair as she lands powerful blows against both Tigress and a barely recovered Sportsmaster, knocking them both down for the count.

Across the room, you see the Shining Knight laid out on a set of steps – the Dragon King’s body lays next to him, a pool of greenish red blood pooling around him and Cindy Burman, free of her cage, is standing triumphant over the both of them.

Icicle, the leader of the Injustice Society, is down as well – Pat looms over him, STRIPE’s impressive stature ready to send him to join his companions in unconsciousness.

You allow yourself a quick look over at Rick. “Did we do it? Did we win?”

“I don’t-” he begins, and then an almighty crash cuts him off as a lumbering grey and black shape bursts through one of the entrances to the room, slamming into STRIPE and knocking him away from Icicle entirely.

Standing in the centre of the room with a murderous look in his eyes, is the hulking form of Solomon Grundy. You’ve only seen him in pictures before, but his true form is horrific to behold. He’s over ten feet tall, skin grey and sallow. His clothes are torn, a black business suit a hundred sizes too small stretched out over his huge body. The toes of his shoes are ripped, flapping around like open mouths. Muscles ripple beneath his decaying flesh, and drool drips from his jaw as he roars a threat at you all.

Not for the first time, you find yourself glad that your friends are here; you begin to back away slowly, Courtney, Yolanda, and Pat arrayed out next to you in various stages of retreat.

Unlike the rest of you though, Rick hasn’t moved. You feel him tense up next to you. You reach out to grab his shoulder, but recoil at the power of the emotions pouring off of him. The anger that he holds within him has burst forth like lava, coating him in this armour of pure rage. You know what he’s going to do before he does it, but there’s no way you can stop him.

“Don’t!” is all Courtney manages to say before Rick powers towards Grundy, screaming like a wounded animal, all of the pent-up frustration of his childhood pouring forth from him in a sound that must have torn his vocal cords to generate.

You don’t even have time to speak his name before Grundy’s enormous tree trunk arm sweeps past, swatting Rick aside like a gnat. He sails into the air, limbs flailing, landing in a heap against the far wall. Bookshelves and tables crash into him until he’s obscured from view.

“RICK!”

His name bursts through your lips like water through a cracked dam and you’re instantly at his side, tearing at the debris that has covered him, no thought for Grundy at all.

Behind you, you can hear Pat’s electronically distorted voice through STRIPE’s speakers as he calls to Stargirl. “Get to the machine, Courtney! I’ve got Grundy, I’ll protect Rick. Go do what we came here to do!”

Grundy’s next roar is answered by the heaving of pistons as STRIPE steps up to bat, shoving into the hulking creature and forcing him away into the tunnels again. You can hear the echoes of their battle grow fainter and fainter, but your mind is focused on only one thing – getting Rick out.

You can feel splinters and scratches in the palms of your hands as you tear at the shattered wood that covers him, but you don’t care. Blood, sweat, tears, pain, whatever it takes; you’re not leaving Rick under here.

A familiar hand bursts forth through the rubble; you grab hold of Rick’s glove and pull, bracing yourself against the floor despite your protesting knee. With a mighty pull, you manage to wrench him free as dust and wood chips fall off both of you in torrents.

His mask is in tatters; he pulls it off, tossing it onto the pile of shattered wood in disgust. His face is sliced and bleeding, his hair poking up in all directions like a disgruntled hedgehog. But his mouth is set in a line sharp enough to cut the air itself, and his eyes are dark even without his hood pulled up.

“I’m going after him,” he says without preamble. “He has to go down.”

You’d known he was going to say that. He wouldn’t be Rick otherwise. It doesn’t make it any easier to hear, but at least you’re not surprised. You shake your head, smiling sadly. “Let’s get going then.”

“What?” Now that mask is gone, you can see the concern on his face far more plainly. His eyebrows are nearly knitted together, and his head is drawn back in shock. “You’re not going. You saw that thing, he could-”

“Whatever he can do to me, he can do to you. You may have your Hour Of Power, but you’re not invulnerable, Rick. You need someone to watch your back. And the longer you stand here arguing with me, the further away Grundy and Pat are going to get. So we’re doing this together, or not at all.”

You see him bite his lip, as if he wants to argue, but he knows that you’re right, on all counts. He glances down at his hourglass; there’s definitely more sand in the bottom than the top now, and every second that he wastes arguing eats into his fighting time. He nods grimly. “Alright, come on. Together, then.”

You run across the chamber towards where STRIPE and Grundy disappeared. As you pass the doorway towards the ISA brainwashing device, you see Yolanda disappearing through the door, while Courtney faces off in a rematch against Cindy.

She’ll be fine, you think. Cindy caught her by surprise before – this time, Courtney will wipe the floor with her. Rick, and Pat, need you now.

As date ideas go, fighting alongside your superhero boyfriend against a giant undead monster to save your friend’s step-dad isn’t the strangest one you’ve ever heard, but it’s definitely pretty high up on the list.

*********

The sound of shrieking metal reaches your ears as you and Rick fly around a corner, and the sight of Solomon Grundy literally tearing pieces off of STRIPE fills you with dread.

Pat’s painstakingly constructed robot is missing both legs and an arm. Grundy is poised over the chest cavity, which is now devoid of doors; Pat’s much more fragile human body is dangerously exposed to the creature.

You summon as much anger as you can and aim a fist at Grundy, but Rick is there before you can release your power, barging the creature out of the way with a shout of “My turn!”

Rick seems to have Grundy under control for the moment, so you stop at the edge of STRIPE’s prone form, reaching a hand in and helping Pat out. 

“Come on Pat, on your feet. We’re not done yet,” you say, as Pat braces himself against the ruins of his robot. He shakes his head, trying to reorient himself, his face covered in blood and oil.

Beside you, Rick lashes out with a vicious punch, sending Grundy sprawling. He turns back to the pair of you. “Are you okay?” 

“Barbara…” Pat says, his voice full of worry, “she’s in trouble!”

“I heard,” Rick replies with a quick glance back at Grundy. “Go save your wife!”

“Rick’s right, Pat. We can handle Grundy. You’ve done your part here.”

He still looks disoriented, and then crestfallen at the sight of what remains of STRIPE. You know how he feels all too well – not too long ago, you were one of the powerless ones. For Pat’s source of power to be stripped from him, especially with his wife in trouble, must be devastating, and you try to think of the words to comfort him.

Rick is far more pragmatic however, and cuts to the quick. “Pat, you don’t need the damn robot! Go!” 

Short and sweet, but it gets the job done. Pat does no more and heads off. 

“Good luck!” you say hurriedly as he speeds past you towards the tunnel exit. He doesn’t reply; his mind is entirely focused on saving Barbara, the woman he loves, from Icicle.

The sound of Rick’s voice, the man _you_ love, snaps you back to the fight at hand. He’s stalking down the corridor towards the prone body of Grundy, unbridled rage dripping from every word he says. 

“I’ve got five minutes left, and it’s all for you!”

You run after him as Grundy manages to get to his feet; Rick’s fist flies out, delivering an uppercut to the creature’s jaw. It makes a wet, slippery noise as it connects, then Grundy rears back with both arms to retaliate.

“Not a chance! You’ve hurt enough Tylers in your lifetime!” you shout, sliding up to Rick’s side and holding out both your palms. Energy bursts forth, powered by your absolute defiance in the face of the monster that has hurt Rick so much already. The blast strikes Grundy square in the face and he roars in pain, hands dropping to cover his face. 

Rick smiles grimly at you. “Good teamwork. Now we finish this.” 

Without waiting for you to acknowledge him, he leaps into the air and drives a knee into Grundy’s chin. There’s a sickening crack as a bone breaks, compounded when Rick brings both of his closed fists down on the creature’s brow. 

Grundy topples to the side as Rick lands, lashing out wildly with a foot. You fill the gap, catching the slimy underside of his shoe with your hands; like with Sportsmaster’s bat, your powers flare at the point of contact, sapping the momentum from the attack and stopping it in mid-air.

From your vantage point, you can see Grundy’s face morph from rage to confusion, and then again as Rick lands and begins to stalk towards him, from confusion to...fear?

You should know better than to feel sorry for the creature. He killed Rick’s parents, and no doubt hundreds of others on the orders of the Injustice Society. But the look in its eyes, uncomprehending, is enough to make you pause.

Curious, you reach out and place your hand on an exposed piece of flesh at Grundy’s ankle. His skin is gross to the touch, as if it’s ready to slough off of his body at any moment. But it’s the feedback from your powers that surprises you the most.

Grundy’s emotions are truly childlike. He’s confused, and scared. He doesn’t understand why this man in black keeps hitting him, only that he wants it to stop. He has no idea who Rick is, or what he wants. All Grundy knows is that he has spent the last ten years in a cage, locked away by people he thought were his friends, only to be released to find them under attack.

The Injustice Society used him, abused him, tricked him into doing their bidding. He doesn’t have enough intelligence to be malicious – all he wants is to be left alone.

You get all of that in a matter of seconds, and as you withdraw your hand, you start to speak. “Rick, wait, I don’t think-”

But he doesn’t hear you – with vengeance this close at hand, he can’t focus on anything else. Rick catches Grundy under the arms and hurls him like a hammer thrower, launching the creature over your head and pinballing him down the corridor, back out into the main chamber.

Rick launches himself into the air and you power after him once again, just in time to see him straddle Grundy’s chest, raining blows down on his face with reckless abandon. There’s no finesse, no targeting; Rick just wants to hit Grundy as much as possible in the shortest amount of time. His hour is almost up, and he’s not losing his chance for revenge now.

Grundy doesn’t retaliate. He tries to raise his hands to protect his bloodied and beaten face, but Rick smashes them away effortlessly, before looking around and grabbing a piece of debris from the ground, a large, craggy boulder that will no doubt do immense damage.

He raises the rock over his head, ready to bring it down and end the creature’s life once and for all.

“Damn you, fight back!” he roars at Grundy, drowning out the creature’s whimpers with his rage. 

“Rick, wait! Stop, you don’t understand! You don’t have to do this! Just look at him!”

Rick pauses; whether because of your words, or because of the look on Grundy’s face, you’re not sure. You loop around Grundy’s prone form so that you can look Rick in the eye, yours hands raised placatingly like a police negotiator trying to diffuse a hostage situation.

“I read his emotions, Rick. He doesn’t even know who you are. He doesn’t want any of this, he didn’t want to kill your parents. He probably doesn’t even remember doing it. It was all the ISA, they tricked him, _they used him_.

“Killing him won’t bring them back, Rick. It won’t even make you feel better about the fact that they’re gone. It’ll just make you as bad as the ISA. There’s a difference between vengeance and justice, Rick. _You know that._ You’re better than this, I know you are. Just...please...put the rock down.”

Rick looks at you, his eyes wet with frustrated tears. The muscles in his arms are tight as he holds the boulder above his head, but he doesn’t move. Below him, Grundy closes his eyes in preparation for the end. He knows what’s coming next.

For a moment, indecision holds Rick like a vice. You wait with bated breath; this is a pivotal moment, you can feel it. If Rick goes through with this, if he takes Grundy’s life, you’re not sure how it will make you feel. Will you still be able to love him, knowing what he’s capable of? You’ve said you’d stay by his side no matter what, but to murder in cold blood…

“You stupid animal, you _stupid animal!_ ” Rick bellows, and your heart shatters when you realise that you’re not sure if Rick is talking to Grundy, or to himself.

Rick throws the boulder aside and clambers off of Grundy. “Go on, get out of here!” he shouts as Grundy shuffles along the floor away from him. Grundy pulls himself to his feet, looking terrified of Rick, and stomps away as quickly as he can. “And never come back!”

You stand at Rick’s side, watching Grundy go. Something tells you that this is the last time either of you will ever see him. You reach out and put an arm around Rick’s waist, resting your head on his shoulder.

“I’m proud of you,” you whisper, and he covers one of your hands with his in response.

Sir Justin, back in the land of the living, joins you as well. He looks more confused than usual. “You spared the beast?” he asks Rick. You feel him tense beneath you, automatically back on the defensive.

“Whatever,” he says off-handed. “My hour was up. Let’s go!”

You glance around the room quickly. You’re not surprised to see that Sportmaster and Tigress are nowhere to be seen, probably having made a quick exit during the ruckus. Dragon King’s body remains still, but his daughter is also missing. Those are problems to worry about another day – more pressing issues are at hand.

“We have to get back top-side. Icicle’s still out there,” you explain to Justin; he was unconscious, and you’re not sure how aware he is of what’s gone on while he was out. The two of you jog after Rick, through the tunnels towards the exit, as quickly as you can despite your aching, damaged bodies.

Your knee is now roaring at you, and your side is making is difficult to breathe; the lull in the fighting has sapped the adrenaline from your system, so you have to fight twice as hard to keep the pain at bay – but your friends still need you, so you power through as best you can.

“I meant what I said,” you huff at Rick through painful breaths. “I am proud of you.”

“You shouldn’t be. I’m weak. I had him right there, and I couldn’t finish him off. If he hurts anyone else, that’s on me,” he spits back. With Grundy gone, he has no choice but to be angry at himself.

“That’s not true, Rick. I know how you feel, remember? Even before my powers, you told me about how much your parents’ death affected you, how much it hurts still, and how much you wanted revenge. But you had the chance tonight to take it, and you did the right thing instead. Do you know how much strength that takes, to do the right thing when the wrong thing would be so much easier?”

Rick is silent, but you think you see his frown ease off just a little.

“You don’t have to pretend with me. You don’t have to put up all your walls. You can tell me how you really feel, you can be who you really want to be.”

Rick considers that for a moment, then shakes his head. “I know. But not now, okay? We still have some unfinished business to take care of. But later. I promise we’ll talk about...all of this.”

You nod and stop talking, conserving your energy for running and breathing. The end is in sight; the ISA are so close to being defeated once and for all. Just a little more. One more push, and this will all be over.

*********

You skid into the square outside of the American Dream building just in time to see a figure emerge from within.

“Beth!” Rick shouts as you all come to a stop, and she spins on the spot towards him.

“Rick! Are you okay?”

Rick brushes her off. “I’m fine, where’s Yolanda?”

Beth shakes her head; she has no idea. Then her eyes travel up the clock tower, and she whispers a simple “Oh no.”

You follow her outstretched finger upwards to see familiar yellow energy mixing with ice blasts in the sky above like a bizarre fireworks display.

You’re powerless to help from this distance. There’s nothing any of you can do but watch as Courtney and Icicle struggle, and then as both of them go over the railing.

You gasp as Courtney plummets through the sky, and you instinctively grip Rick’s arm. His hour’s up – if he tried to catch her, there’s no guarantee that he wouldn’t get hurt as well, and your powers aren’t built for this kind of thing; your heart is in your throat, beating at a thousand beats a minute.

Then Yolanda vaults over the roof as well, plucking Courtney out of the air with ease and landing on her feet like an actual cat. You sigh with relief as Courtney rolls across the pavement, bruised but alive. 

Behind them, Icicle hits the ground with a crash. Ice breaks off of him in all directions, leaving his body prone on the ground like some macabre snow angel.

Above you, you see Barbara and Pat reunited on the roof. Courtney and Yolanda both get back to their feet. You, Beth, Justin, and Rick are safe.

You’ve all made it, you realise. You survived the battle. You saved your friends, the town, and a hundred million people to boot. You can’t help but smile.

Then a frustrated scream makes you look away; Icicle has struggled back to his knees, ice coating his entire body as he aims what will no doubt be a fatal blow at Courtney. Your legs tense beneath you as you ready to throw yourself at her, to try and shove her out of harm’s way, but you needn’t have bothered. One second Icicle is there and then the next he’s gone, shattered into a thousand pieces as Mike plows into him with Pat’s pick-up truck, Max sitting in the passenger seat. You gape, wide eyed, at them.

“So, does this mean I get to be in the JSA?” Mike asks, completely deadpan, and your smile returns once more.

You look around at your friends and, as if pulled together by some unseen gravity, you all convene in the centre of the square for the biggest hug you’ve ever had.

You, Courtney, Yolanda, Beth, and Rick embrace, holding on to each other as tightly as you can. You’re all battered, you’re all in various degrees of pain; but you’re all here, you’re all alive. 

And together, you've made a difference.

Emotions flood in from all four of them, you can’t even tell whose is whose at this point, but they’re all exactly the same as your own – pure, undiluted love. You feel it for each and everyone one of them, and they feel exactly the same for you.

With your friends’ arms around you, you marvel at how far you’ve all come. A few short weeks ago, you hadn’t even cared who they were, or what they did. You’d eaten at the same table, but you’d barely even known they were alive.

And now, you’d die to save any and all of them. You care so deeply for them all that their pain is yours, and vice versa. Together, you’ve become a team – each super in your own way, and together, something even stronger than the sum of your parts.

Courtney, the new girl, now your fearless leader and the best friend any of you could ask for. Starman may not be her father, but he’d be proud to have Stargirl as his successor.

Yolanda, the school pariah, now a kickass fighter who owns everything about who she is. The master of landing on her feet, no matter what life throws at her. Even Ted Grant would be in awe of the strength that she embodies as Wildcat.

Beth, who used to speak at a hundred miles an hour in case the people she spoke to ran away before she could finish, now both the brains and the heart of the JSA. She may not have a PhD, but she’s Doctor Mid-Nite through and through.

And Rick, perhaps the one who has come the farthest of you all. Once he was a ball of rage and pain as much as a person, ready to lash out at anyone and anything in his way. Now he’s kind, compassionate; his walls have come down, and he has let you into his heart. He’s more than just Hourman; he’s finally on his way to the Rick he wants to be, the Rick you knew he could be all along. He’s yours, and you’re his.

And you? You’re still figuring _you_ out. You started this journey a little later than the others, so you’ve got a little catching up to do. But with your new abilities and your new friends at your side, you know it won’t take you long to find out who you truly are.

The bond between the five of you now is unbreakable, forged in fire. You’re more than just friends, more than just teammates. You’re even more than the newest incarnation of the Justice Society Of America.

You’re a family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more to go!


	14. New Beginnings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set during the events of Stargirl 01x13: Stars & S.T.R.I.P.E Part Two

It’s surreal to think that it’s only been twenty four hours since the Injustice Society was defeated, and yet everything in Blue Valley seems to have already returned to normal.

The news is reporting the explosions beneath the town from the destruction of the ISA’s brainwashing device as an earthquake, and the lost time that all of the almost-brainwashed adults experienced is being attributed to a gas leak. Because of course it is.

And the school football field, where you and your friends have now gathered to say goodbye to Justin, has returned to its original shape. No one would ever know to look at it that it can retract into halves, granting access to the tunnels below the town. 

No matter how much things return to normal however, the memory of the battle will never erase itself from your mind. The bruises and cuts may heal, but you’ll never forget how close you all came to defeat.

You’ve bandaged your ribs tight, not unlike how you wrapped Rick’s ribs after his first fight with Sportsmaster. You can breathe a little easier now, but they’re still tender to the touch. Your knee doesn’t like supporting your weight for too long, and your hands are covered in so much tape that you look like an MMA fighter. But you’re whole. You’re alive. The pain will fade.

There are some injuries that will take a little longer to recover from; for example, poor Yolanda is grappling with the fact that she killed Brainwave. She’s been quiet and distant since yesterday, and even now stands with her head hung low, staring off into space. You can only imagine how conflicted she must feel.

On the one hand, Brainwave needed to be stopped. If Yolanda hadn’t done what she did, he could still be out there, trying to reform the Injustice Society. Henry King Sr. had proven time and again that he was irredeemably evil. The man had killed his own son, and then used Henry Jr.’s image to taunt Yolanda. You’re not sure if you would have been able to restrain yourself, in her situation. But you get the sense that there’s more to it than that; something that she’s not telling you all just yet.

Meanwhile Beth still cradles her Doctor Mid-Nite goggles, now shattered and devoid of life. Chuck is gone, destroyed by Icicle, and it’s like Beth has lost a limb. For all your talk about finding family in your friends, you don’t know what it’s like to lose someone like she has. You don’t know much about tech, but you hope that between them, maybe Rick and Pat might be able to restore Chuck somehow.

Rick himself seems to be doing better, all things considered. His face is still ravaged by cuts and scrapes, but there’s a lightness to him now, as if he has shed the weight of the world from his shoulders and can finally walk tall again. Seeing him this happy, it’s nearly impossible not to feel happy yourself.

As you all wave goodbye to Justin, off on a new quest to find the remaining Seven Soldiers Of Victory, you watch everyone mill about in the parking lot, kind of at a loss as to what to do now. Courtney and her family pile into Pat’s truck, while Beth and Yolanda link arms and begin to slowly trudge their way home.

You sidle up to Rick, nudging him gently with your shoulder before he can walk away. “Hey. Walk with me for a bit?”

He nods absentmindedly, still watching Justin’s truck disappearing over the horizon, and then the two of you set off on a loop of the football field.

“I kind of can’t believe it’s all over,” you admit. It’s started to rain, sheets of fine drizzle that will soak you to the bone within minutes; the turf beneath your feet is already spongy.

“It’s weird, right?” Rick agrees. “All that build up, all that worry, and now...what do we do now? Do we hang up the costumes, put away the powers? Do we just go back to who we were before?”

“I don’t think we could, even if we wanted to. Being part of the JSA...it’s a part of who we are now. You’re telling me that you could just stop being Hourman?”

He doesn’t even take a second to consider that, shaking his head. “Not a chance. It’s like...my legacy, right? My dad was a hero, there’s no way he would have ever stopped.”

“And it’s not like I can just turn off these powers,” you agree. “Even when I’m not using them, I can feel them. They’re always there, just waiting until I need them.”

“I guess we’ll just have to see what happens next.” A thought crosses Rick’s mind, and a wry smile finds its way onto his lips. “With the ISA out of the way, do we just start fighting normal crime? Like muggers and stuff? Do we repurpose the JSA into community service?”

You laugh at the very idea. “I can totally see Yolanda climbing trees to get cats down. Courtney can use the Cosmic Staff to clean graffiti off the sides of buildings.”

“I wonder how much trash I could clear up with an hour of super strength?” Rick muses, before creasing up beside you. “Ah, I don’t know. I think it’s a bigger conversation to have – whatever we do next, it affects all of us. Once we’ve had some time to catch our breath and heal, then we can start worrying about the future.”

“’Wait and see’ wasn’t the answer I was looking for, but I guess there’s nothing else we can do just yet.” You turn a corner, now walking along the back of the field behind one of the goalposts.

You walk the entire width of the field in silence, just enjoying each other’s company despite the slow fall of rain. It’s only when you turn the next corner and begin walking back the way you came that you ask Rick the question that’s been on your mind since yesterday, since you saw him spare Solomon Grundy.

“Rick...are you okay? I mean, really? I heard Court ask you, and I know you said yeah, but I just...want to check.” You know how lame it sounds, but you feel as though you have to ask. As close as he is to Courtney and the others, you know there’s something more between you two, so maybe he has a different answer for you, something he can’t voice to them.

This time, Rick takes a moment to answer. You don’t push, just wait patiently for him to arrange his thoughts into the order he wants to articulate them in. 

“I think...I will be,” he says at last. He reaches out and takes your hand, and you feel the rain on his skin slick against your palm. “As long as I have you and the others, I really think I will be.

“I’ve got a long way to go yet, I know that. I’ve been living with my parents’ death for a long time, my entire life; it’s not something I can just _get over_ in a day. But seeing Grundy, facing off with the ISA...I think that was good for me. It was kind of...I don’t know what the word is, like it was what I needed, what I had to do in order to start moving on.”

“Cathartic,” you supply. 

“If you say so,” Rick says with a shrug. He begins to trace slow circles over your knuckles with his fingers.

“You’re not an animal, you know.” 

Rick looks over at you in confusion. 

“I heard what you said, to Grundy, I mean. You’re not an animal. You’re a good man, Rick Tyler. Don’t ever forget that.”

A small smile plays about his lips, as if it’s unsure whether it’s welcome or not. “In the heat of the moment, I can see why I felt that way. Like you said, it would have been so easy to just bring that boulder down and get revenge. But it wouldn’t have been justice. It wouldn’t have been what my parents wanted – they were good people, and good people don’t go for the whole eye for an eye thing. Someone much smarter than me once told me that an eye for an eye just makes the whole world blind.”

You allow yourself a little pride for that one. 

“And looking back on it, you were right, _again,_ ” he says, rolling his eyes playfully. “If I was an animal, I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself. I wouldn’t have been able to realise the truth in what you were saying, that Grundy didn’t need to die. I put that rock down, and I did the right thing. An animal wouldn’t have done that.”

You lean over, placing your head on Rick’s shoulder as you turn the final corner of the field, ending up back at the parking lot where you started. “You’re the best person I know, Rick. It’s one of the reasons why I love you.”

“That reminds me...” Rick releases your hand and steps in front of you. “I’ve got a little surprise set up for this evening. Are you okay to come to the Pit Stop at like...eight?”

You feel the confusion sweep across your face like an anime screen wipe. “What are you planning?”

“Nothing,” he says, expression entirely unreadable. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course I do, but that doesn’t stop me being suspicious.”

“Well, don’t be,” he says plainly. “Just meet me.”

“Is this a capes type deal? I still haven’t worked out what to wear as a costume,” you tell him, both playing for time and trying to get some more information out of him.

“No costumes. Just wear something nice,” he says, still cryptic.

“Rick, you’ve got to give me more than that!” you tell him, but he’s already backing away, a mischievous grin on his face. 

“Can’t hear you! See you later!” And then he’s off and running, and you don’t have the heart (or the knee strength) to chase him.

Waiting is your least favourite thing to do. But for once the anticipation of finding out what’s next is something to enjoy, rather than to fear.

*********

The forecourt of the Pit Stop is almost pitch black when you roll up at five minutes to eight. If Rick hadn’t told you he’d be here, you’d think the place was deserted.

You weren’t sure what Rick’s definition of ‘nice’ was, so you’re wearing your best jeans, your cleanest pair of Chucks, and your favourite t-shirt, which you’re a little ashamed to admit is from the movie theatre gift shop, but it’s not your fault The Haunted Tank was an awesome movie and there’s hardly any merchandise about for it.

Your knee still aches, and the wrapping around your ribs is fresh, but you’ve eskewed the bandages on your hands; the wounds are healing, albeit slowly, and some air is probably good for them.

As you approach, you can see that the shutter is raised ever so slightly and a dim glow of light pools beneath it.

“Rick? Anyone home?” You rap smartly on the shutter with your knuckles to announce your arrival.

“Come on in! Just in time!” comes the response.

You duck under the shutter as best you can without aggravating your knee, and straighten back up awkwardly on the other side. Your hands instantly fly to your mouth as you gasp at the sight that greets you.

All around the Pit Stop are fairy lights, hung in strands like glittery spider-webs. They pulse at regular intervals, giving the room an almost disco-like vibe. In the far corner, Pat’s STRIPE robot has been propped up as best it can be with only one leg, and the headlights in its head are also pulsing along with the rest of the room.

A low table has been set out in front of one of the squashy couches, laden with party food and an honest-to-god bowl of purple punch. A Bluetooth speaker sits in the centre, and slow, rhythmic background music has been playing since you stepped into the room.

Standing next to it all, looking very proud of himself, is Rick.

He’s dressed in a slim-fitting blue suit, perfectly pressed, with a crisp white dress shirt and matching tie. His shoes are so well polished that they shine even in the dim light, and his usually unruly hair has been slicked back in a style you’ve never seen on him before. There are still cuts and scrapes on his face, but they’ve been cleaned and plastered.

You suddenly feel criminally under-dressed.

His best feature however is the massive smile he’s wearing, and the hand he has outstretched towards you.

“We never did get to go to the school dance,” he says by way of explanation. “And it’ll probably be canceled on account of the whole supervillain attack slash earthquake, so I thought this was kind of the next best thing.” 

“Rick I...I don’t know what to say. This is…”

“It’s too much, isn’t it?” he says, suddenly looking awkward. He retracts his outstretched hand and uses it to rub at the back of his neck instead. “I knew it was too much.”

“No!” you cry, crossing the room as quickly as you can. “No, it’s wonderful, it’s perfect. It’s just...unexpected, is all. I’m just taking it all in.”

The fact that Rick has done all this for you, that he didn’t forget about asking you to the dance when you in truth had forgotten all about it in the madness of stopping the ISA, is almost incomprehensible. If someone had told you a few weeks ago that Rick Tyler would do something like this for you, then you’d have a) asked them who Rick Tyler was, because the only Rick you knew back then was Rick Harris, and b) not believed them in the slightest.

And yet here you are, standing amidst a sea of stars with a man so thoughtful and considerate that he spent the entire day turning the Pit Stop into a makeshift dance hall, just for you.

“Do you...like it?” he asks tentatively as you gaze around at the room, trying to count all the lights, listening to the music piped in at just the right volume.

“I love it. I absolutely love it. I can’t believe you did all this.”

“I thought, after all the crazy, we deserved a little normal. It wasn’t like I was doing something I didn’t want to. I love you, so, y’know, it was no bother,” he says with a shrug, and it’s so throwaway, so nonchalant that it makes you smile. Something that you’d found so hard to say before, and now it falls from Rick’s lips as easily as ‘hello’. 

“Did you want to dance?” He reaches out a hand again, and this time you take it. Carefully he pulls you in close, one hand clasped together tightly with yours, the other on your waist as you take your positions.

“I have no idea what I’m doing,” he admits as you begin to sway to the music. “My uncle never really taught me dancing. Or y’know, anything at all.”

“Just hold me, Rick. Everything else is a bonus,” you breathe, leaning forward and resting your head on his shoulder. 

It’s awkward, and a little silly; you and Rick wave back and forth, feet barely moving, not even on beat with the music. But it doesn’t matter. It’s perfect nonetheless.

Rick tightens his grip on your waist, and you can hear his heart racing through his chest. Your own isn’t far behind, and you have to remind yourself that it’s not a competition.

“You look amazing,” you whisper. “That suit’s...unbelievable.”

“Beth helped me pick it out. And then she ironed it for me,” he admits. “I think it was good for her to have a project, to help keep her mind off Chuck.”

“I’ll have to thank her in the morning. I wish I’d known, I might have dressed up a bit more. You didn’t exactly give me a lot to go on.”

“You could have walked in here in a pillowcase and flip-flops and you’d have taken my breath away.” He’s joking, but there’s an undercurrent of sincerity to his words that surprises you.

You can’t help but laugh at the mental image though. “For the record, if I ever turn up anywhere wearing a pillowcase and flip-flops, I want you to have me committed.”

“As long as they put me in the cell next to yours,” he says, and you can almost smell the cheese on that comment. You chuckle against his collar bone, and then look up to see him grinning like a lovesick madman.

“I remember us promising to go to the school dance just as friends,” you say, and surprisingly he shrugs, the epitome of not caring.

“I mean, if you want to go back to just being friends, then…” he teases, and you pound on his chest with your free hand. 

“Not a chance. This is much better than just friends. Infinitely better.”

The music changes into something a little more upbeat, but after a few seconds of more rapid swaying there’s a twinge in your knee, and you hiss despite yourself. The discomfort must be plain on your face, because Rick instantly looks concerned.

“Are you alright? Did I hurt you?” he asks, but you shake your head. 

“Not at all. Just my knee – Sportsmaster must have messed it up more than I thought. Is it okay if we sit for a minute?”

“Of course it is.” He leads you to the sofa and helps you into its comfy embrace before reaching over and pouring you a glass of punch. “It’s just grape, I think. And I definitely haven’t spiked it. Unless you want me to, because I totally can.”

Bad boy Rick Tyler rears his head again, and he actually opens his jacket and removes a silver hip flask to shake at you. “I had a swig of this before you got here.”

“Were you nervous or something?” 

“Hell yeah I was!” he admits. “Fighting the ISA is one thing, but doing something romantic like this? Whole other ball game.”

“Well, I’d say you’re doing an awesome job. No superpowers or alcohol needed. This is amazing.”

“You’re amazing,” he breathes. “I’m so damn lucky to have found you. Or that you found me. That we found each other. You know what I mean.”

“I do,” you confirm. You look over and see Rick staring at you, captivated, entranced. 

“I don’t know what I’d do without you in my life now. Everything would seem...wrong, somehow. Like there’s a piece missing. When you’re with me, I feel complete, like the real, honest, genuine me. And I like that feeling. I never want it to stop.”

“It never has to. I’m not going anywhere.”

The air between you seems to be charged, like someone has unleashed a cloud of static electricity into the room and any movement will detonate sparks across your skin. But you know that it won’t be an unpleasant feeling; on the contrary, you can’t wait to feel it.

You reach out and grab Rick’s jacket lapels, drawing him gently towards you until your lips collide, magnets finally within the orbit of their opposite, ready to never let go.

He moves around you carefully, making sure not to touch your injured knee as he shifts so that your legs are intertwined. You begin to lean back, allowing him to lean over in turn until he blots out all of the lights above you, and all you can see, all you ever want to see again, is his face.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asks as you relinquish his lips back to him.

You feel your brain about to kick into high gear and take the situation away from you, but this time you and your errant thoughts are all on the same page. “I said I did before, and that goes double for now. If you’re ready, I’m ready.”

Rick shrugs out of his jacket, laying it across the back of the sofa so that it doesn’t crease. “Beth’ll kill me otherwise,” he explains with a sheepish look on his face. 

“I’ll kill you if you don’t get back over here and kiss me again,” you warn him playfully.

“I think I can manage that.”

Rick’s expression turns almost hungry, and then the mood seems to shift once more. Both of you realise that there’s no longer any need for words, not when actions can say far more than any words ever could.

Since Rick is now divested of his jacket, you grab his tie and drag him back towards you. 

What follows is a form of self-discovery and exploration the intensity of which you were not prepared for. You start slow, learning the patterns and rhythms of each other’s bodies; neither of you are sure what works as you begin, but it’s a cooperative effort, and soon the pair of you find the groove that works best for you both. This is a learning experience, and one that you’re glad to be embarking on together.

It’s intimate, of course, but it’s also...kind of funny? Both you and Rick end up laughing more times than you can count as you muddle your way through, and that makes it all the more special; after all, if anything should be fun, surely it’s this.

At one point you run a hand up Rick’s arm, his hairs standing up on end at your touch. You activate your powers as you do so, just out of curiosity. It’s a good thing you’re lying flat already, because the desire that burns off of his skin is so intense that it would have knocked you over had you been upright.

To have someone feel this way about you, to know the depths of the love that Rick feels…it makes you feel wanted, needed, _loved_ in a way that you never thought possible, and you redouble your efforts to prove to him that you’re worthy of it, that you feel the same way, if not stronger.

The tempo of your bodies increases, faster, faster, faster still, and then you feel the dance come to a close with one, final, ecstatic movement.

You fall away from each other, panting heavily and smiling wider than you’ve smiled in months. Rick scoops up a blanket from somewhere close by and drapes it about you both. It’s kinda rough and scratchy, probably more for covering cars than people, but it’s the thought that counts.

He leans back, head on the back of the sofa, and laughs at the ceiling. “Wow. That was…wow.”

“Wow is a word for it,” you agree. You look over at him, his torso bare and twinkling with sweat in the still-blinking fairy lights.

The first and only time you saw him with no shirt on up to this point was when he was hurt, and you’d not been able to appreciate the sight half as much as you can now.

Rick is slimly built; his Hourman suit gives the illusion that he is much larger than he actually is. But his arms and chest are corded with tight muscle, the plane of his stomach flat. Wisps of hair play across his chest like a freshly cut field, dark like the hair on his head, which is now also slick with sweat and coming loose from the style he had so carefully placed it into.

He’s perfect, in every way that matters and all the ones that don’t. It takes you a moment to see that he’s looking back at you with the same expression you feel yourself wearing, and you know that he’s thinking the exact same thing.

“I can’t believe we just did that,” he admits. “Pat’s going to need to throw this sofa out, there’s no way I can ever sit on it again and not remember doing _that_ on it.”

“If that’s the case, what do you say we do it again for good measure?” you ask slyly.

Rick looks both surprised and excited in equal amounts, but he doesn’t object. Instead, he just throws the blanket up in the air so that it lands over you both, and then you’re together again, one inseparable being moving beneath the material.

The last thing you see before you fall asleep, both huddled awkwardly on the sofa underneath the blanket, is Rick’s face. He looks content, his mouth curved into a small smile, eyes closed, not a care in the world whatsoever.

“I love you, Rick Tyler,” you whisper to him, and he adjusts himself beside you without opening his eyes.

“I love you,” he murmurs back, his voice low and husky. “You saved me, you know? I don’t know where I’d be, what path I’d be on, without you. It definitely wouldn’t be here, with you, or with the others. Hell, I could have been one of the bad guys.”

“Not a chance. You may not think it all the time, but you’re a good person at your core. There’s no way you’d ever have joined up with them.”

Rick is succumbing to sleep now, his words more and more drowsy. “Whatever, I’m in too good a mood to argue. I just...I just want you to know, we may all be superheroes, but you...you’re _my_ hero.”

And then he’s asleep, snoring lightly, his breath tickling your shoulder with every exhale. You watch him for a little while, admiring the lines and curves of his face, before slipping into dreamland alongside him, totally content.

*********

When did Christmas get here? The ISA, and everything that went along with them, consumed your life for such a short amount of time comparatively, and yet it feels like the end of the year has come out of nowhere, bringing with it festivities that seem to have sprung up overnight.

Luckily, the Dugan/Whitmore family is more than Christmassy enough for everyone.

You’ve all assembled here for Christmas Eve, a team celebration before your individual family ones the following day. You’ve taken up a spot in one of the doorframes, out of the way as people hustle past with food, presents, and all manner of other things held in their grasp. 

Barbara and Pat are in the kitchen, arguing over the correct amount of icing for gingerbread men while Beth arranges already iced cookies on a baking tray to serve.

Courtney and Mike flee upstairs, chasing Max, who moves surprisingly fast for such a chunky dog. Yolanda and Rick are by the punch bowl; grinning, free of worries for a few days at least.

You’re not sure what you did to deserve this, any of this. But here you are. Your decisions, your choices, have lead you to this point.

You have a group of friends you care about immensely, and that care about you in turn. That will drop everything at a moment’s notice to come together and celebrate, or to fight evil, or whatever else you ask of them. 

You’ve awakened the latent power within you, so that you can stand side by side with them as a superhero, part of something so much bigger than yourself, something that makes a difference to so many people, even if they aren’t aware of it.

And you’ve found a man that loves you, and that you love back with every fibre of your being.

You’d never have dreamed at the beginning of the school year that this would be your life. But you’re so very glad that it is. Because this life? It’s pretty damn good.

“You skulking over here for a reason?” Rick asks, coming towards you with red plastic cups in both hands.

“I just like doorways. I’m mysterious like that,” you quip, taking a cup from him and sipping from it. “Nah, I’m just...watching. Taking it all in it.”

“I get it,” he says, joining you on the opposite side of the doorframe. “It’s...not how I thought Christmas would be this year, that’s for sure.”

You watch quietly as Barbara and Pat’s squabble descends into a food fight, and Beth beats a hasty retreat to join Yolanda on the sofa and avoid getting icing in her hair.

“Hey, I got you something,” Rick says suddenly, standing up straight as if he’s just realised that he’d almost forgotten something important. “I know Christmas isn’t till tomorrow, but I wanted to give it to you today, so I could see your reaction.”

You’re now a little worried. You’d wracked your brain about what to get him, and settled on some discretely Hourman-themed civilian clothes (mostly black and yellow hoodies that look _extremely_ comfortable), and a new set of socket wrenches (thanks in part to Beth, explaining what a socket wrench was and why they’re useful. For two hours. You’d almost wished that you hadn’t asked in the end).

“Hey, don’t look so scared. It’s nothing expensive or anything. I wish I could afford to get you something super nice, but…”

“Oh Rick, no, don’t even think that,” you begin. “You didn’t have to buy me anything at all.”

“I bought you a little something,” he says, blushing as bright as the baubles on the enormous Christmas tree in the corner of the room. “But that’s for tomorrow. What I wanted to give you today was free.”

“Whatever it is, I’m sure I’ll love it.”

“Well, this is our first Christmas together, as a couple, and what-not,” he says, his cheeks growing darker. You’ve never seen him look so embarrassed; usually he just gets angry. This must be a new sensation for him. “So I wanted to give you something memorable, that you’d always be able to use, and that’d remind you of us when you did.”

“Did you get me a...toothbrush, or something?” you ask, suddenly confused. The suspense is killing you but you can’t help but ask, because you have no idea where Rick is going with this.

“No, nothing like that,” he says, a brief look of confusion breaking through the embarrassment. “No, I got you...that is, I thought up a...I wanted to give you a…superhero name.”

You blink once, twice, letting that digest. You hadn’t even thought about that. In the six weeks since you stopped the ISA, the Justice Society has mostly been on low alert. You all still spend an enormous amount of time with each other, but it’s been more about mundane things like studying for Christmas exams and less about fighting bad guys and saving the country. 

The most you’ve used your powers in the past few weeks was to check if your dad was lying when he said he hadn’t eaten the last bagel at breakfast one morning (he had, the guilt pouring off of him was a dead giveaway when you touched his hand).

You’ve barely put any thought into your superhero costume, or your codename. It just hasn’t felt...necessary.

But Rick’s right – if he gives this to you, you’ll never be able to lose it. Every time someone calls you by it, you’ll think of him. It’s exactly the kind of gift he wanted it to be; intensely personal, and truly unforgettable.

“Is that...okay?” Rick asks. “I mean, it’s dumb, if you’d rather just come up with your own, I get it.”

“How about you tell me what it is first?” you tease. You have no intention of rebuffing him, but you have to admit that it’s a little bit fun to watch the usually confident Rick Tyler squirm.

“Well, I thought about how your powers work, like how they’re tied into your emotions and stuff. How you can read other people’s, and use yours to fight. And then I realised that that was kind of the perfect set of powers for you; you’d always been good at reading people, at knowing when something was wrong, or bothering them, or that they needed to talk.

“I thought for a while that maybe it was your powers kind of manifesting themselves without manifesting themselves, if you know what I mean? Like preparing you for them, giving you a little taste before you got them properly, whenever that was.

“So I did a little research, and it turns out that there’s a term for people who’re really good at that kind of thing. Emotions, and stuff. And that’s when I landed on it. Empath. You should be Empath.”

You let that sit for a moment between you. 

Empath. It has a good ring to it. And Rick’s right – it’s definitely an accurate description of your powers, and your personality. Empath sounds like the right fit.

“Well?” Rick asks after a few moments of silence. “I’m dying here. It’s dumb, isn’t it? So dumb.”

“It’s not dumb, Rick. I love it. Hourman and Empath. It sounds...exactly right.”

Rick’s shoulders slump with relief. “Oh thank god, I was really hoping you’d like it because I didn’t have any back-ups. I landed on that one, and it was just...the only thing I could think of that worked.”

“Thank you, for my present. I can’t wait to tell everyone else. I’ll have to get it inscribed on the JSA charter, or something. Do we even have one of those? We should get one of those.”

You’re babbling, wracking your brain to see if there’s anything you can give him today as well. All of his physical presents are under the tree, for him to take home with him.

Wait. Home. That’s it. But it’s not enough. It’s a good start, but it’s not enough.

Then you look up, as if the heavens might offer you some aid, and see exactly what you need.

“I’ve got something for you too,” you tell him. “How does a family Christmas sound?”

Rick narrows his eyes. “Isn’t that what we’re doing today?”

“Well, yeah, but no. I mean, why don’t you spend Christmas with me tomorrow. You can meet my parents.”

Rick blinks, taken aback. “Are you sure? Will they mind? I don’t wanna like, impose or-”

“They’re not getting a choice in the matter. The thought of you having to spend Christmas on your own, or worse, with your uncle, is...it’s just not happening. I was thinking I could come to your house tomorrow and then we could...go visit Henry’s grave, and your parents’ tree? Then you can come home and have a proper Blue Valley Christmas.”

Rick’s face seems to smile involuntarily, like he’s not quite sure what his cheeks are doing, but he likes it. He wipes an eye very quickly on the sleeve of his sweater. “I...That sounds...great. I’d love to. Thank you.”

“I’ve got something else for you, too,” you say, pointing upwards. He raises an eyebrow, and then his head. 

Hanging above you is a sprig of mistletoe.

Rick grins, his expression soft and open. It’s been a long time since he was guarded around you; it’s like he’s built a door into the walls around his heart, and it opens instantly whenever you’re around. 

You wrap your arms around his neck, feeling his drop around your waist as your lips touch. Rick tastes like punch, and Christmas cookies, and happiness.

You can hear Mike making fake kissing noises to taunt you from somewhere, but the world has fallen away and all that you need is right here in your arms.

There are still threats out there; you can feel it. There’s been no sign of Sportsmaster or Tigress in six weeks – the gym has been closed ever since, to Pat’s delight. The Gambler has also been MIA, probably licking his wounds and trying to recoup his lost fortune. As much as you’d like to think that you’ve seen the last of Cindy Burman, you know that she’s likely still out there too, biding her time and waiting to strike.

And there are no doubt new enemies on the horizon as well; superheroes are a magnet for supervillains, and you can only imagine what shades are lurking, waiting to eclipse the light that you and your friends fought so hard to protect.

Those are worries for another day though. When you’re needed, the Justice Society will rise again. Stargirl, STRIPE, Wildcat, Hourman, Doctor Mid-Nite, and Empath will stand ready to fight whatever evil comes your way.

But for now, you can enjoy the company of your friends, and the kiss of the man you love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we have it. See you in 2021 for Season Two!


End file.
